Down Came the Rain
On Saturday I dared to do something I seldom do; I got my car washed. And for the whole rest of Saturday and even Sunday I had a green honda rather than brown. But then Sunday night, we awoke once more to a loud noise. This time it wasn't a young man in the throes of adolescence chucking rocks at our window. It was thunder, a rare sound here in southern California. And rain, also rare. I got up and shut the window, glaring at the glossy asphalt outside. It hasn't rained all summer, what with us living in a desert with sprinklers. But now, it rains.
Not just normal rain, either. Mud rain. It exists, really. It must be a California thing too, because I can recall rain actually cleaning my car when I lived in the south. But y'know, I guess it's fair. Around here we seldom get bugs on the hoods/grills of our vehicles. In fact, we hardly have bugs. It's great, not getting bitten by mosquitos the size of bats. And not having to spray on stinky Off bug spray. So y'know. I can accept nasty mud rain. Until we move in a month, that is.
Not just normal rain, either. Mud rain. It exists, really. It must be a California thing too, because I can recall rain actually cleaning my car when I lived in the south. But y'know, I guess it's fair. Around here we seldom get bugs on the hoods/grills of our vehicles. In fact, we hardly have bugs. It's great, not getting bitten by mosquitos the size of bats. And not having to spray on stinky Off bug spray. So y'know. I can accept nasty mud rain. Until we move in a month, that is.
