Monday, 15 October 2007

blame it on the rain

I hate rain. In fact, I suspect that most people do. You know those people who say "oh, I just looove rainy weather! When they say this, they are snuggled up in bed or some other warm, DRY place. NOT standing outside in it, for example, changing a tyre or disconnecting their battery.

I hate the way little muddy bits stick to my flip flops, and catapult themselves up my pants legs at every step. I hate the way the dog has to walk in and out and in and out of the house, experimentally, as if wondering whether it is worse to be stuck indoors with the rest of the damn family, or standing outside in the rain. I hate when the cat gets into my warm dry bed in the middle of the night, WET!

I hate those weeks and weeks of rain, when everything stays damp and grows mold. I hate the smell. I hate the damn leak in the roof, the source of which has been eluding us for 6 years. I hate the way walking from the house to the car becomes a cross-country adventure, culminating in 4 wet, muddy persons with or without wet umbrellas and rain jackets, dropped schoolbags in puddles, and doors being held open while shoes get knocked off and rain pours into the door pockets.

I really hate, when you are sharing an umbrella with someone and holding it over them, and you realise that all of the rain is pouring off of the umbrella and down your back, and trickling right down into your pants. I hate getting into a car with a wet umbrella.

I hate the way Trinis drive when it's raining. At the first few raindrops, everybody mashes brakes and goes into "oh gorm, like it makin' rain" mode. People, it is only rain! Visibility is fine, and you will not skid off the road at 80 km per hour, really. As visibility gets worse, panic sets in and all true Trini drivers switch on their hazard lights. WONDERFUL MOVE there, people! Now, not only can I see nothing in the 5-inch-per-hour torrents, but there are little random flashy lights blinking everywhere in the darkness, reflecting off the wet road and other cars, removing all hope of establishing a point of reference upon which to focus. Gee, is that a stop light flashing, or a random flashy light? Is this person turning? Is it two people turning? Actually, Trini drivers are basically hazardous, rain or no rain. Maybe we should all just leave our hazard lights on permanently. Especially as we haven't got a breakdown lane at all, anyhow. Why don't we just make it official? "morons pass here, full speed ahead".

I hate the way I never get anything done when it's raining. I mean, okay, it's kinda nice to get into bed with a warm book, especially when someone else is there with you with THEIR book, and you can find a warm part of them to tuck your cold toes into. Especially if it is someone who will tolerate this with all the love in his heart, and I am truly grateful, you know. Where was I? Right! BUT when the sun finally comes out, you realise that you have not done any of the houseworky things you were going to do, and the laundry you were supposed to fold and put away is all a bit damp, and the muddy footprints have dried on the floor.

And the car smells like a wet car, but worse.

And the dog? Smells like a wet dog.

The boys? Love rain. At the first signs of a serious coming rain, they rush to the kitchen, and rush out again with all of my wooden clothes pegs. These are dismantled, sanded, decorated with felt pens and rubbed with candle wax softened over the stove. I say useless things like "well don't take them ALL, leave a few for me!" and "would you NOT drip wax on the floor and all over the stove!" but all they hear is "wah wah wah", like Charlie Brown. They are intent on making THE fastest jockey. Clothespeg jockeys are cooler than popsicle stick jockeys, by the way. They look way more speedboat-ish, and are faster. Allegedly. Sometimes a winning jockey survives the race under the bridge, but usually they are never seen again, and go down in jockey history.

I buy plenty of wooden clothes pegs, and they are hardly ever used for hanging up clothes.

When the rain has passed, or when thunder starts to roll with lightning, the racing fans troop back into the house , shedding wet clothes hither and yon and demanding hot Milo. The rest of the day will be spent in sipping Milo and drawing accurate engineering diagrams of their next jockey designs.

But. I still hate rain.

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