drip, drip, drip....

Ok, seriously, it has to stop raining now. Really. The sun must come out. This is abnormal. My house is finding drips it never knew it had. There is one tiny one right behind my chair in the attic, so I put a little plastic bucket there, one that held my binder clips. It keeps the carpet dry, but it also makes me a bit twitchy with the rhythmic ping ping ping... After hours of working, the bucket held about a teaspoon of water. Impossible. I imagined a quart.

The basement is damp, the bedding feels clammy, my shoes squish, my finger tips, I swear, are crinkled as if I had been soaking in the tub.

There is no soothing sound of rain on the roof because it is drowned out (no pun intended) by the sound of rain pounding on the metal of the air conditioner.

All of my work is taking longer to dry because the glue/acrylic/paint/sealer is having trouble drying in the urban rain forest.

Normally, I am fond of showers. Normally, our Summers are warm and sunny, punctuated by the occasional, necessary, refreshing soaker. Maybe thunder and a flash of light here and there. Makes the air smell good, washes the streets clean, greens up the lawn. And then the sun comes back out for a week.

But now, after a run of rain storms that would have made Noah arch a brow, the air smells of mold, the streets are cluttered with damp bits of paper and bits of leaf and seed pods from trees that are heavy with the weight of relentless showers, the lawns are mud.

It makes me want to sleep. I can't sleep. I have a show in a week, a big one. I can't let the dripdripdrip, the sounds of tires on wet pavement, the heaviness of the air sap my energy.

Well, maybe I'll go to sleep early and wake up early and start early and maybe the sun will be out. Yeah, that's it.

The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow.....