Saturday, July 30, 2016

Hey it's raining and I'm not complaining

Northeast Ohio is in need of a good rain. Today the heavens opened up and poured down on us. But it waited for me to bring in my groceries with the help of Boy #1.
The thunder came first, off in the distance. Growing closer with each grocery bag we grabbed. The high winds were next but we only felt a couple drops by the time we unloaded the car with this weeks provisions. We felt a sense of accomplishment, Boy #1 and I did. He told me,
"I'm taking a nap, this is good sleeping weather."
And I said,
"Just listen for the crackle of broken tree limbs."
And I pointed outside his window,
"Because your dad and I are a little concerned that the dead limb on top of that tree is going to come down. Sweet dreams."
I went to the kitchen to put away my stuff and things. I had to stop one time because my flower stand on the front porch blew over. Wow, thinking to myself, it's really windy and the rain is going sideways, we needed this.
With the grocery's put away it was time for me to sit and relax with my mocha. The one I stopped for on my way home. The one whose taste still languished on my taste buds. The one I got for free because I had 6 stamps on my card. The one that was still in the car.
I said some bad words and looked at my car with my hands in my hips. Mocha has a firm grasp on my life, there was no question about it, I was going out there. I have a large umbrella I use to use for the boys ball games, I was sure it would be sufficient for a quick run down the steps and opening my car door for that delicious brew.
I made a quick mental plan, I have to do that or I will trip on my own feet, and I opened the door. The insufficient umbrella almost flew out of my hands. Had I been the weight that I was before my hormonal imbalance I might have flown away, so yay menopause. Reaching the car I fumbled with the umbrella, which was sideways, and the car door. I decided it was better to be soaking wet than spill my mocha. I was swearing like a drunken sailor by the time I skipped up the steps because another flower pot was blown over. My hands were kind of full and that flower pot waited there for me to save it. I said the eff word. Don't tell my mom.
Once in the house, soaking wet, mocha in hand, umbrella secure, I took a sip of my uncontrollable addiction. It was worth it.

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