I used to like the sound of rain. I used to like it on the car roof, against
the house windows, and as it hit the pavement of sidewalks or streets. I used to find it easier to sleep when it was
raining.
Not anymore.
For some odd reason, the sound of rain annoys the hell out
of me. It distracts me when I'm reading
or watching television, aggravates me when I'm trying to concentrate, and wakes
me from a sound sleep in the dead of night.
This is exactly what happens Thursday night. It has been nice most of the day -- cool
temperature, breezy, low humidity. And
then the weather does what the weather has done every stinking day since summer
started: It turns. Clouds roll in, the
temperature climbs, air movement ceases, and the humidity crawls up. The other morning when I woke to rain, the
thick air stunk like low tide and dead fish.
(I live twenty miles from the ocean.)
No way am I making that mistake a second time in one week. I order an immediate shut down.
My son and I slam every window shut and crank the air
conditioners. It is a decision made in
the knick of time as the sweat-enticing humidity level has already set in to
the upstairs bedrooms. By the time I
crawl into my own room around midnight, it's as cool as a refrigerator in the
house.
In short, inside I now have prime sleeping weather. Outside?
Soupy, muggy, cloudy conditions.
I sleep like the dead until about 4:00 a.m. I have the air conditioner blasting from the
hallway and a fan directly blowing on me (and, I discover when I awaken, a
pillow partially covering my head that I apparently dragged over when thrashing
about in one of my several hundred dreams of the overnight hours), yet still
the sound of the rain outside interrupts my sleep pattern.
For some reason, I am exhausted, more so even than usual. I cannot believe anything wakes me. Even the trains that roll through all night
just yards from the house do not disturb my slumber anymore. But this sound, this light rain (for truly it
is not a monsoon or anything) somehow manages to bring me out of LaLa
Land.
I have a broken back door.
The bottom of it let loose a month ago, and it needs to be
replaced. Sometimes when it rains
sideways, as it has in two recent thunder storms, floods of water pour in and
cover the back hall and part of the kitchen and run into the tiny pantry
shelves. I decide that if the rain has
awakened me, I should probably check the towel-stuffed door jamb for tsunami
damage.
I need to be honest here.
I am not a person who sleeps through the night even under ideal
conditions. I am used to hitting the
floor with both feet securely capable of functioning, even from a comatose
condition. For reasons that remain
unknown, the wee hours of this very morning are not so accommodating. I stand up, start down the stairs, and
promptly walk into the railing and wall.
You heard me correctly.
I am halfway down the stairs and trying to turn through the drywall and
make a break for it into the next room.
I teeter and reel down the remaining stairs then hit the
bottom landing of tile like my legs are anchors. Here I have to make a decision. If I continue straight on, I will face plant
into the front door. Not very feng shui.
I know I have to turn left through the den, head through the kitchen, and wheel
around to reach the back door, but I cannot seem to function. It's as if my equilibrium is somewhere else,
planet Neptune or something. My brain
simply will not engage, and my body simply will not cooperate. I think very strongly about turning left, stumble
sideways, and struggle to stay upright.
I have not been drinking.
I just want to put that out there to clear things up. You know, just in case you are judging
me. Oh, puh-leeze. I would soooo be judging you, and you damn
well know it.
I manage to crawl-walk through the kitchen. I lean up against the wall and look down at
the door-towel that is acting as a very lame defense against the ever-rising
moat outside. I reach the toes of my
right foot over and am surprised to find the towel is bone dry. I stop and listen. Was it the sound of rain that woke
me? Patience plus an ear to the door
assure me that yes, it really is raining outside, but apparently it's not
pouring sideways, so we're good to go.
This is a wonderful thing because I have so much vertigo right now that
I am afraid to lean over and touch the towel with my hand. If I try and touch this towel, I am going
down.
I stumble into the bathroom for a PBE (preventive bladder
emptying). No sense in maneuvering back
upstairs only to discover that maybe quite possibly I might have to pee. I nearly miss the seat when I sit down,
causing me to grab both the vanity and the toilet paper dispenser. I feel like a drunken sailor on a five day
bender (why not? I swear like one). A
few minutes and one more towel check later and long after I've clutched my way
back up the Mt. Everest of stairs, I manage to get back to sleep and do not
stir for another three hours.
I used to love the sound of rain, but now apparently all it
does is bug the piss out of me.
Literally. (And that's one
weather report I would pay money to hear a meteorologist give.)
PS As I am trying to post this blog, a thunder
storm rolls through. Karma totally
sucks. Touche, Mother Nature. You win again.
