Glub. Glub. Glub. I’m 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.) I’m pretty sure Ariel got her voice back.

Somehow the year 2006 got stuck in neutral in January, and we can’t seem to move on. Rain, rain, and then a little more rain. That’s what it’s been like all winter and spring. Every so often we’ll see a ray of sunlight creeping through the clouds, but then they close back down and open back up with more rain.

I’ve had about as much of this as I can stand without wanting to hibernate like a bear or a ground squirrel. I didn’t bother going to the post office today, mostly because I didn’t 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 couldn’t 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 Giants’ 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.

It’s 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 didn’t remind me that sooner or later I’m going to have to go out into it. The more that wind howls through the trees, the less appealing I find that prospect.

A year ago at this time, I was keeping the high grass in my yard well under control. I had a new mower and a new weed trimmer, and I was able to use them. There was still an occasional shower, but nothing remotely like the endless, dreary days we’re having this year. I did not sign up for this. I’m a Californian, and I’ll keep complaining about the weather until somebody does something about it. (Arnold, make yourself useful for once.)