Knock Head Against Wall. Repeat.

SwampMan stuck his head into the door and announced “Looks like rain will be here soon. There’s a big black cloud to the southwest.” Or maybe it was northwest. Or eastwest? I dunno. I shouted out a cheery “Okay!” while wondering just when he’d gotten interested in whether or not it was going to rain. I continued to clean up the kitchen after lunch. A loud clap of thunder shook the house. It sounded like there were high-pressure water hoses squirting down the roof. Oh, good! It must be cooler outside. I turned on the whole house fan, then thought about taking a shower to cool down my sweat-soaked body and change out of my damp clothes. Then I remembered that I had done the laundry that morning, and all my clean clothes were hanging neatly outside on the line. In the torrential rain. They would have been nice and dry if I had FREAKING REMEMBERED THEY WERE OUT THERE when SwampMan warned me about the rain on the way.

I put up my umbrella and splooshed through about 3″ of standing water to my clothes line. As I suspected, my previously dry clothes couldn’t possibly get any wetter, so I just abandoned them and ran back into the house. DAMN.

I guess I could go ahead and get that shower then just walk around nekkid until the clothes dry sometime tomorrow, but what if somebody comes to the door? I have gotten out of the shower, toweled off, found that I’d not carried my clothes into the bathroom to change after all but had left them on the living room sofa when I’d answered the phone, and walked out nekkid to retrieve the clothes only to find that SwampMan and visitors from church were sitting in the living room. Church people quit visiting us for a couple years after that. Then there was the time when we’d bought the house in Arizona, I was busily unpacking things, the curtains were still in boxes, and I needed to take a shower and head to work. The bathroom window was up high, so I wouldn’t be flashing any neighbors. I stepped into the shower and was toweling off, and happened to look up into the startled eyes of the telephone guy who was on a ladder outside the house looking down at me while working on our phone line connection to the house that was located right outside the bathroom.

No, walking around nekkid inside the privacy of my house somehow just doesn’t work out for me. There’s probably something inside the rag bin I can wear. Or I can wear something hanging pressed in the closet ready for work, an office casual-type outfit, polo shirt and khakis. Hmmmmm. What do I still need to do? Oh, yeah. Finish the Great Pantry Clean Out* and see if I can find my toaster somewhere. Plus, if it keeps raining at this rate, I’ll be out schlepping through the mud soon rescuing hen and duck nests and chicks from encroaching waters.

Nope. Rag bin it is.

*Found the toaster. It was with the juicer. I also found two unopened cans of Crisco and a 12-pack of chicken broth that I did not know that I had. My, uh, pantry is contained in a largish closet, a couple cabinets, a large set of shelves, and boxes containing #10 cans. I usually go through everything right before hurricane season to stock up, but I’m waaaay behind this year.

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4 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    kcduffy said,

    Yay! Now you can have toast! [ducking assorted #10 cans and running, with big smile on my face] 8)

  2. 3

    kae said,

    LOL

    I think the rain warning from Swampman was, if you listen between the lines, in fact “Ya better get the washing in it’s going to piss down in minutes.”

    (Not sure of the translation into American lingo, but it’s what an Aussie spouse would say. They don’t check the washing and bring it in nor mention the washing.)

    • 4

      swampie said,

      Southern men do not mention the washing, either. I’ll tell SwampMan that the Aussie translation for “fixin’ to rain” is “piss down in minutes”. He’ll no doubt claim to be bilingual.


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