And when do I like the rain?By Steve Estes
I’m not a great fan of rain.
I know we need it to keep the plants and animals watered, and we need it to recharge our groundwater and allow us to drink something other than treated salt water (which by the way is fast approaching, we just refuse to admit it).
But just because I know we need it that doesn’t mean I have to like sloshing around in it, or driving a car through it, although with the Jeep’s high ground clearance and snorkeled intake pipe I can drive through most puddles without a care.
And most of all, I don’t like the unpredictability of rain.
I can look at the sky and after a few years have a pretty good idea when the deluge is going to start, but we don’t always get rain after a cloud cover. Sometimes we get rain before a cloud cover, or with no cloud cover, and sometimes we get rain just because it wants to rain.
That makes it tough when you have to work on home-repair projects that don’t include air conditioning.
I have been working on repairing a leak in my shed roof.
I get very little time to work on things like this, and I get very little money to hire someone to work on things like this, so I do what I can when I can.
And that’s why I am not a great fan of rain.
The repair is simple enough. I have to blow the crap off the roof that accumulates there from the trees that grow wild around the yard because we live next to the refuge and because I get very little time to work on things like this.
Once I blow the stuff off the roof, I have to peel back a layer of shingle roll, find the hole, patch the hole, apply some roof sealant over the hole and replace the shingle roll.
Sounds easy enough.
I pull out the leaf blower. It rained an hour ago. The crap on the roof is like glue. The blower is useless.
So I drag out the pressure washer. I know it doesn’t seem like the smartest of ideas to use a water-driven cleaning device to locate a hole in a roof that’s leaking, but it’s either that or scrape with my hand.
I get the pressure washer hefted onto the roof, hooked to the hose, then have to climb off the roof to plug the unit into a power source, after running the appropriate amount of extension cord, and to turn on the water.
Just as I plug the extension cord into the outside socket, the rain begins to fall.
It starts light, so I ignore it. It gets heavier, and I unplug the cord.
As it gets heavier, I’m hefting my still-fat backside onto the roof to remove the pressure washer from the rain, which entails removing the water hose and dragging the unit out of the rain.
Just as I get the unit out of the rain and back into the shed (you know that shed that leaks when it rains) the rain begins to pour down.
It lasts five minutes. It turns absolutely muggy. The mosquitoes come to life.
Trapped in the shed, I watch the clearing take place, toss the pressure washer back on top of the shed and hook the hose back up. I climb down, plug the extension cord into the wall socket, turn on the water and climb my still-fat backside back onto the roof.
After five minutes of spraying the roof, I am ready to turn off the unit and proceed with locating the source of the leak.
As I bend down, the sun is bright, the day is muggy, and the skies open up and pour rain down my exposed plumber’s crack.
I have no choice but to drag the pressure washer back down off the roof, with everything still hooked up, toss it into the shed (that one that leaks) run through the pouring rain to turn off the water hose and unplug the extension cord, and hustle back to the shed to get in out of the rain (you know that shed that leaks when it rains).
This rain comes with gusts of wind. The crap falls from the trees surrounding the yard, right back onto the shed from which I just cleared them, turning almost instantly to glue.
The rain stops. I climb up on the roof. I discover the new coating of crap from the trees.
I look up, the skies are turning light gray. We will have more rain.
I am soaking wet already. The air conditioning is on in the house, and I will freeze if I go inside.
My mind is made up.
I stroll over to the fridge where we keep the beer and bait.
As I open the bottle of Coors Light in the fridge, the rain comes back down.
I have no tools in dire need of saving. I am home alone working. It is raining. I have a cold beer, a wicker chair, and a hand to place over the bottle opening to keep out the rain.
It rained for 20 minutes.
I made four trips to the fridge. I would have made more except that the fridge was out of beer.
I’ll have to talk to someone who cares about that little oversight.
There were two more bottles upstairs. The air conditioning was on. I was wet. I didn’t venture upstairs.
When the rain stopped, there I was wet, beginning to be slightly buzzed, and wondering how something so simple had gone so wrong.
Then it hit me. The answer to my problem. The fridge was out of beer (an oversight I will get corrected) but it wasn’t out of bourbon.
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.