the power of rain

i am almost afraid to go home and look and my garden and yard. we've had nonstop rain since yesterday afternoon. and before that, it rained for part of each day for almost a week. the plants are threatening to overthrow the human regime. i didn't know that hollyhocks could get so big. mine (planted from seeds last year) have morphed into giant bushes taller than my knee right now - and it's only may! early may! i fear that i've planted them too close to the sidewalk. i might have to move them, so that visitors don't get lost or eaten on the way to the front door.

our power went off this morning. as the Gods of Monday would have it, the power went off just as i started my shower. the rest of my shower was a memory test, to see if i could locate my shampoo, conditioner, soap, etc in complete pitch-blackness. you see, i don't have a window in my bathroom. when the lights are out, it is D-A-R-K in there. and you know, when you stare at a darkdark room for a while... your eyes start to play tricks. you start to see weird blobs and become convinced that monsters or killers are creeping around you. or, at least, you do if you're like me.

lesson learned: you really CAN tell the different between shampoo and conditioner, just by feeling it. try it! you'll see.

one thing i am thankful for, living in a city: when the power goes off, you still have water! and you can still use the stove, if you have a gas range! okay, so that's two things. growing up on the edge of the boonies, we had a well for water and an electric pump. that meant at the threat of a storm, we would fill up pitchers of water - just in case. and the bathtub, so you could use buckets of water to flush the toilet. and if the power went off for a long time, and there was enough rain... then the basement would start to flood, since the sump pump was electric as well. that meant a 3 or 4-person bucket brigade from the sump hole in the basement, through the laundry room, up the goddam-slippery basement stairs, across the goddam-slippery wet kitchen floor, out the back door, across the porch... then you had the toss the water from the bucket into the yard and head back in for more. all without falling down in the goddam-slippery dark. plus, the yard would be all scary and stormy and dark, and full of werewolves and/or killers. once all of us kids left the house for college, my parents got a generator. go figure.

i hope the power is back on when i get home. but if it's not, at least i can still cook dinner. and i can take a bath if i want to. and that's fine by me.