bunt sign

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Yesterday it was rain; today it was wind. I could look out the window and see tree limbs swaying violently. I could see tree trunks swaying violently. It was still raining, but not as hard. It's just that the wind blew the rain at such an angle that it would come right at me. Or would have, if I'd managed to convince myself to go out in it. If you could have heard the sound it made as it roared through my yard, you'd have been a little timid, too.

Several times I made the decision to forge ahead. It looked promising enough that I found my old shoes and my heavy jacket. Then I looked out and muttered something about discretion and valor (although neither virtue really applied at that moment). Once I even got as far as opening the door, but the wind was making the screen billow back into my face. It doesn't take much more than that to change my mind.

Nevertheless, I did get out the door in the middle of the afternoon, hours later than my usual time to run errands. And it wasn't bad! The driveway was underwater and muddy, and the streets were strewn with eucalyptus fronds, and there were some people driving around who should really stay home until June or July, but other than that it was okay. I got a little wet but nothing that forced me to change clothes.

It's kind of too bad, after all that effort, that none of the big checks I expected were waiting for me at the post office. But at least I survived.

And I survived going to school tonight, too. The wettest I got all day (including my shower this morning, I do believe) was racing from the front door to the garage at 5:30 pm. I was soaked through in a matter of seconds, and it was a miserable drive in the late rush hour traffic. More idiots, more maniacs. And me.

The rain kept coming and going, better and worse, as Suzanne and I made our way to the junior college, where we sat in the car and drank coffee until time for class. This was the last session before next week's big test, and the teacher impressed on us that we must be there (he even taught us the sign for "must"). So any thought of bailing (in the nontraditional sense) wasn't considered. I didn't expect the classroom to be full on a night like this, but it was. I guess everyone got the message.

16 February 2004

From the back porch: camellias blooming, puddles in the yard.

Class was fun, as always. Driving home was kind of a nightmare, but we made it. I'm hoping desperately that tomorrow is just a wee bit drier, because I have things to do that I've been putting off and putting off. If I put off going to the bank, I won't be able to pay myself. That's incentive enough right there to wade through a monsoon. One of these days it'll be summer and we'll laugh about all this.

No, that's probably wrong. What we'll do is forget about all this until next winter. I think it's a survival mechanism. If you don't remember how bad February is, you won't dig a big hole in January and bury yourself in it.

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The reason I know that in spite of the soaking I got there was actually less rain than yesterday is that I didn't have any septic problems. The toilet flushed, the shower drained, and even the puddles in the yard were smaller. It seemed to be coming down as hard and as steadily, but obviously that was an illusion. Knowing I can flush is a matter of great relief to me. It helped keep my spirits up in spite of everything.

Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.

One year ago: What Holiday?
"'I guess this is some kind of holiday?' Apparently the people he's been trying to reach already knew it was a holiday."

Four years ago: World of Difference
"When you categorize for the purpose of exclusion, you're diminishing the struggle that brought us to a time and place where we don't have to fear each other's differences."

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'Cause all the debutantes in Houston, baby,
Couldn't hold a candle to you.