Yep, I’m tired of all the rain

By Steve Estes

Strictly Drivel by Steve Estes

Ok. I get it that we’re in hurricane season, and with that comes the realization that we’re also in rainy season.

But does that mean it has to rain every day?

At presstime it had rained at least once a day for the past 11 days. And the weather gurus were predicting at least another four days of the wet stuff pouring down on our heads.

If your roof is going to leak, it probably did so sometime in the last 10 days.

Consequently, I have discovered a leak in the shed roof.

If your road is going to develop a water-filled dip or pot hole, it has done so in the last few days.

And thus it is that our road now features a deeper dip that holds more water, and near the shopping center on the Key Deer Blvd. entrance is now a section of roadbed that seems to be falling in on itself.

The usual parking lots that flood have been flooded every day for a week.

The usual driveways that flood on a routine basis have been flooded every day for a week.

The shoulder of US 1 in Summerland Key, which floods if three or more people spit at the same time, has been flooded for more than week.

Any low-lying patch of grass has turned into a swamp.

Any low-lying patch of dirt has turned into a mud hole.

Any tree limb that was in danger of coming down has gotten water logged and has come down.

And we started this rainy spree with a bad run of mosquitoes.

Like most folks in these parts, we know that after a rain we have to go around and pour out anything with standing water so it doesn’t act as a breeding ground for the flying, biting critters that share our islands with us—or take them over depending on the amount of rain and the time of day.

After the first day of heavy rain, I went around and dumped over the kid’s wagon, the sand pails, tipped over the wheelbarrow, drained the mermaid fountain (It isn’t running at the moment because of the winds that blew flotsam from EVERYWHERE in the pump) and scraped dirt over the holes dug by grandkids and dogs.

And woke up the next morning to more rain.  Just to repeat the process the following afternoon as the rain was still falling.

This time, I was a little smarter about it and left everything tipped over (except the fountain—too much concrete).

And woke up the next morning to more rain.

I had to move everything off the shed floor. You can’t repair a roof in the rain and the leak had gone from one centralized location to four scattered locations, meaning that as soon as the sun starts to shine again I have to get on that roof.

And that makes me wonder.

When does the sun shine again?

We are in the process of trimming all the trees for the coming hurricane season, but with all the rain, the job is slow going, and just when the bulk of the trees in the front yard are trimmed, the canopy that shielded us from the rain while walking to the cars is gone.

There are times I feel like a cat chasing its tail.

And then there is the nature of my beast.

I love the classic car that Holly bought me last year. But its only six inches off the ground. Any puddle is almost too deep for it to traverse, and the hood is so low to the ground that cars in front of me kick water up high enough to flow into the engine compartment.

Driving it has become a lesson in avoidance as I swerve around puddles, slow down at streams running across the roads, all the while making sure I don’t smack into other moving vehicles.

At least my brother fixed the air conditioning so I don’t have to keep the windows rolled down all the time to escape the heat.

There’s that tail thing again.

Meanwhile, I wake up nearly every morning to more rain.

If I hear one more person tell me that “We really needed the rain,” I’m probably going to fly into some kind of psychotic rage and get myself on the post office wall of most wanted.

All my shoes are wet, even though I only buy shoes that are supposed to stand up to water, so my feet stay wet.

Car seats are always damp. The air conditioning works overtime to pull the humidity out of the air. My books are all soggy from the dampness.

I really want the rain to stop.

If I wanted to be a duck I’d move to someplace like Seattle where it rains three of every five days, or just to Orlando where folks can count on an afternoon rain nearly every day in the summer, and most in the winter.

Another week of this and I’ll be growing gills.

Perhaps I should start shopping for plastic clothes.

Maybe there’s an automatic umbrella out there somewhere.

Bring on the trash bags to cover everything you need to transport from one place to another.

Don’t look up or risk drowning.

Can you tell that I am heartily sick of the rain?

Of course, when it hasn’t rained for six or eight weeks, I’ll be one of those folks wandering around talking about how badly we need some rain.

Excuse me while I go and chase my tail for awhile.

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