Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen

Of course, I write a paragraph about the fact that it doesn’t ever rain in Salt Lake City, and yesterday the skies opened up and dumped for hour after hour after hour, endless sheets of rain that rarely ever happen here. If you experienced any water damage from that storm I am so sorry I ever opened my damn mouth. This is my apology to you.

However, there is no attic space between the ceiling of my bedroom and the roof, so waking up to the sound of rain is quite soothing, poetic even. I loved listening to it yesterday. It’s too bad that Chuck isn’t allowed in there because he would have written a masterpiece during that storm. He could even use the poor drainage in the yard and the deteriorating brick wall as some sort of morbid metaphor. And I’d hum it happily all day long because those home improvement projects? NOT MY PROBLEM.