The Rain...It Burns Us!!!

Back in my youth, in the high desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico, the beginning of the rainy season held a kind of anticipated wonder. With the rain came the thunderstorms, the thick smell of ozone, and the mad dash to conserve water and turn the irrigation drip system and sprinklers off for a week or so. The rain didn't come often, but when it did, it was a beautiful and magical time. I used to go out in the first rain and swing my arms around, spinning in a dizzying circle with my face up-turned towards the water from the heavens.

I kind of miss that sensation. Now, the rain holds fear, frustration, and anxiety. Fear, of course that the landslide will again begin to slide, seven full months after the first crack appeared in the pavement. Frustration because again my sunroof will leak, drenching ONLY the driver's side seat. Anxiety because I still have no concrete idea of what tomorrow will hold for SPF and I, for our home, for our financial future.

As I am sure you have already guessed, the rains have come again. The HOA has done one thing right, it seems. A little over 24 hours before the first mist began to coagulate into a sparse drizzle, men in work trucks arrived with dozens of tarps and hundreds of sandbags and literally bolted a great plastic poncho over Jimmy, our hole in the ground. They actually went even one step greater. Jimmy, you see, is a pit. One great hole. No matter how well tarped he may be, he inevitably has a low point that will collect whatever rain decides to fall upon us, ultimately resulting in the failure of even the most well-laid plastic protection. But this, much to my surprise, was not lost in the planning of this draping. There is actually a pump and piping located in the approximate low point of Jimmy that will serve, if everything goes as planned, to distribute the collection somewhere farther down the hill where it won't cause us any further heartache.

None the less, I fear, ever single drop is stinging.