Every time I sit down to be productive, something fabulously exciting happens. Like, my little brother’s new girlfriend comes over. Or a friend that I haven’t talked to in way too long decides he would give me a ring-a-ling and make my night-a-night. And then, right as I am getting ready to hammer out this 5 page paper, it starts absolutely pouring outside. And I am glad to be inside, but it’s so pretty sounding.

I remember when I was little I used to hate sleeping in my room when it rained.  This was mostly because the metal drain pipe goes down  the side of my house right outside my room and I wasn’t able to fall asleep.. But now, I love it. It’s comforting. No matter how frazzled or frenzied I may be, It makes me feel like I am 6 again sleeping in this room for the first time when it rains. And I don’t care about anything.  It’s such an awesome memory association I have, and I love it dearly. I just wish we had some thunder and lightning to go along with this water.  Or some below-freezing temperatures to make this water fluffy and snowy. Oh, well.  We can’t have it all.

This was kind of funny:

The shop I work in is an old greenhouse and when it rains, it leaks. So today at work as we were getting ready to leave we had a customer at the front counter who seemed completely normal and sweet. She looked fairly dressed up and nice, but she also had mentioned that she was on her way home. My boss had walked in from the back and mentioned that it was drizzling outside, ever so slightly. And at this point the woman started having a panic attack about how she was going to get to her car (which was probably 25 feet from the door). So she asked for a plastic bag and proceeded to take off her high heels and put them in the bag (which would have been FINE in the rain). Then she debated if she should take off her nylons or not to walk to the car, but then decided, no, that she was going to tie plastic shopping bags around her feet to walk to her car. Which, again,  was 25 feet from the door.

She then left the store with her “slippers” and packages in tow.  I’m no meteorologist, but it wasn’t a damn hurricane outside. But then again, she’s probably gearing up for Dallas Raines’ report on STORM WATCH 2006. I can’t wait to move to somewhere that doesn’t call 1/4 inch of rain a storm. Jeez.

That’s all for now. An attempt to study should commence… now.

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