The upside of our daily thunderstorms is going to bed listening to the rain through open windows. Pure relaxing white noise, the occasional whisper of the trees, occasional throaty rolling thunder, the light breeze.
Then an additional “plink” out of harmony with the rest. It grows to “plink, plink, thud.” Time to adjust one of the windows. Whoa, the hardwood is slippery – in fact a puddle – “plink” and a splash onto my hand. Oh, no. Please, no. Please not again.
Turn light on. See new plus-sign crack in ceiling, water dripping down, water also coming down exterior wall. Patter up to attic, to section with precious STASH. Window is closed, insulation drenched, no trail of water. Dragging bins of yarn out of the way. Stash unharmed. Signs of water on floor, but WHERE THE HELL IS IT COMING FROM?
Wipe up hardwood, place bins on floor to catch water. Lie down with spouse. Listen to drip. Drip. Drip. Spouse is asleep. Snore. Drip. Chinese. Drip. Water. Drip. Torture. Get up. Go downstairs and read accompanied by snoring. Read until the loneliest hour, 4 a.m. Go to bed, thankful that Darling Bebe slept through it all.