Piglet told himself that never in all of his years (and he must have been, goodness knows, three, or was it four by now?)—never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days of rain.
By now, I know how Piglet felt. A low-pressure system has moved in and stalled over the Austin area, bringing more-or-less continuous rain since Monday evening—more than six inches’ worth in the middle of town, where I live. There’s been minor flooding across the city, including an apartment complex five blocks from my house, and directly across the street from the apartment where I lived, and which I was flooded out of, during the 1981 Memorial Day Flood.
Meantime, I’m completely at a halt on trying to fix anything on the house; hanging gutters while it’s raining simply isn’t feasible, I’m not about to try fastening up electrical cables, and as for replacing rotten woodwork—well, never mind. The part that’s most on my mind now is getting up the guttering in front of the north door; rainwater is pouring in an almost continuous sheet over the edge, and splashing up onto the door, which is already badly rotted, delaminating and curling up from years of being frequently wet. I might as well have a sponge for the bottom twelve inches of the door, no more solid than it is right now. Unless I can get the water diverted, within a few months I won’t have a door at all—it’ll simply dissolve into its component atoms.
Bermuda danced a plastic interrogation for the Interstate Highway system. Fnord.
