Glub. Glub. Glub. Iím writing this from the lost continent of Atlantis. I look out the window and expect to see Nemo swimming by. (Actually, that would be kind of cool.) Iím pretty sure Ariel got her voice back.
Somehow the year 2006 got stuck in neutral in January, and we canít seem to move on. Rain, rain, and then a little more rain. Thatís what itís been like all winter and spring. Every so often weíll see a ray of sunlight creeping through the clouds, but then they close back down and open back up with more rain.
Iíve had about as much of this as I can stand without wanting to hibernate like a bear or a ground squirrel. I didnít bother going to the post office today, mostly because I didnít want to go out in the rain (but also because I knew I would find (a) no checks coming in today, and (2) more bills that I couldnít pay).
Halfway across California, a large area of the kennel is under water, which is severely cutting into our revenue. Two counties down Highway 101 from here, the Giantsí game against the Astros was rained out tonight. And outside my front door, the puddles are so deep that I have a choice of putting on my boots every time I go out or wading through standing water to get to my car.
Itís hard to block it out. Even at night I hear the trickling of the drops off the eaves, alternating with sheets of rain pounding against the windows. The sounds might be more tolerable if they didnít remind me that sooner or later Iím going to have to go out into it. The more that wind howls through the trees, the less appealing I find that prospect.