(Perforated Lines)

A real, non-altered heart on Mars!
(They love us ... they really, really love us.)
(yesterday)Tuesday, February 13, 2001(tomorrow)

 

11:54 a.m. Puttered around, drying towels and dumping the water pans from under the inside rain forest cloud cover and waterfall that we call home.

Just about nap time late this day, early this evening, I'd finally: stripped and changed the bed, since I had to move it to the floor over by the closets, which was the only part of the room that wasn't dripping; took apart the makeshift night table and lamp arrangement and put those items back from whence they came; rehung the family photos and repolished the furniture and rearranged the precious memorabilia and laid down new, starched, ironed doilies on the tables and bureaus affected by last night's downpour ...

... and let me tell you ... as I huddled there on the mattress on the floor in the corner of the bedroom away from the windows last night, I could not believe the force with which the wind was hammering every. single. drop. of rain into every last crack and crevice of the house ...

... so, I've got the bed all returned to its prominent platform and the sheets all fluffed and the comforter tucked comfortably around me and I'm reading the first few pages of an ancient Philip K. Dick novel, The Galactic Pot Healer, all cozy as a body can be ... when what do I hear?

Rain.

What do I see?

Lightning! Big lightning. But. But ... this is Los Angeles -- the only lights in the sky around here are klieg lights. But there it is ... and sure enough ... there's the thunder and soon, the deluge.

That was a few hours ago. It wasn't so bad this time -- in fact, none of the old leaks were leaking, as I've mentioned before. There's been a shift in the wind and it's blowing in that old false sense of security.

The good thing about all this rain, just like the good thing about all the recent pain, is that when it stops, you know how wonderful it was before it started. It's something I often forget.

 

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