Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Rain 2

Need I say more, living here as I do, on the wet, wet, wet coast of British Columbia? Yes, that's right, O Gentle Reader, I am experiencing a deluge at the moment; well, I'm not actually experiencing it, the roof of the house is experiencing it. Technically I'm just listening to it. It's pounding on the roof and drowning out my NPR feed, amazingly enough. It's even made the front page of the local newspaper, which has a photo of a truck plowing through a massive amount of water (probably my BIL, who finds this sort of activity highly amusing). Sadly, it seems to have affected my email provider, so I can't check my email, something I usually do with my morning coffee. This has thrown my schedule right off. I feel, dare I admit it, bereft. Now I know how Toffee the Feline Diva feels when I hide the litter box on cold days when he'd rather pee inside (not that it'll stop me from continuing to do so, I should add, just now I know how he feels).

I've lived in enough dry-in-winter places to find the constant rain a little on the irritating side, and to still be mildly horrified when I see my postie wearing shorts in the middle of December (doesn't he ever get a chill?). The rain gets downright depressing after a while, all that gray and damp and lack of bright sun. I'm sure Roald Dahl could've written an excellent children's story using my locale as a prop: lots and lots of rain, a couple of nasty aunts, some poisonous mushrooms in the backyard (rapidly multiplying) a few curious and undaunted-by-the-aforementioned-aunts children visiting for the summer because their parents have been sent off to Borneo as missionaries, and everyone getting up to mischief because of the weather. Naturally, it all takes place in the UK somewhere, although if they make a movie of it they'll probably need to film it here because of the constant rain. Did I mention that it rains a lot here?

My husband's parting words this morning, as he boarded his kayak, err, car, were this: "Check for damp patches, would you? I'm a little worried about the weeping tiles." So here I sit, pecking away when I should be downstairs hunting for puddles (not cat puddles, rain puddles). I didn't even know tiles could weep. Sigh.

(I call this Rain 2 because I've already written a Rain 1...see here)


Andrea said...

Ah, you get used to the rain if you live there long enough. As a kid I can remember being asked if it was raining just after I came in and not being able to remember... was it raining?

sheila said...

Andrea! You can't be serious! Really?

Does this mean I have to give up my diva-ish ways and get used to the weather?

(says she, clinging to her wimpy weather raft, hoping for a break in the clouds)