I’m taking time off and have been enjoying myself with various creative projects. Today, I videoed a hurricane taking place outside my back door. The deluge was widely reported in various formats, but I got to hear of it when spouse banged on bedroom door in the wee hours, informing me that our beloved gazebo (where we host outdoor parties) had folded in upon itself, torn its moorings and was no more.
And further, that it was reanimating post-death, and crawling up the house, trying to gain the roof and freedom, beyond.
Several pairs of soggy socks, pants, shoes and soaked mackintoshes later, world freedom was secured from this marauding skeleton. The hubby had a scalding shower in the big double steamer bath and battled his way off to work, leaving me on cleanup detail.
Thank the gods, we had no leaks or interior drips.
Here is my own local view of the Great San Francisco Bay Storm of Ought-Eight, including a relaxing freshly-recorded rain track for those of you who enjoy such things. There is bliss to be found in being outside, the only human being around, filling lungs full of cold air, the wonderful fresh ozone sweeping the cobwebs out of one’s head.
The Mitties provided support by nestling against me when I came back in, the purr-buzzing of their hot, fluffed-out little bodies providing just the right dose of warmth and comfort. Keep your galoshes handy.