Flood watches have meant nothing to me, since I don’t live near a river or a stream, but all that has changed over the past week. Once the snow and ice began to melt, and the rains came down for days on end, I knew Dora and I would be stuck in the house until cabin fever would force me out.
That happened last Wednesday when the temps were in the 50’s, and spring was in the air. The sidewalks were wet, but who cared? Not us. It just felt so great to be walking outside. Then suddenly, I was up to my ankles in a mega puddle, a term I have stolen from a newsletter I subscribe to called “Our Daily Wit.” These weren’t just puddles that were deeper than I thought, but small lakes that came up to my ankles, soaking not only my shoes and socks but also the bottoms of my jeans. I was not going to cut my walk short, just because of a little water, but as my feet began to get numb, I changed my mind, and we headed home.
Fortunately, I had thought to leave a towel in the garage for wiping off Dora’s feet, so we went through the garage. First was a vigorous toweling off for Dora and then an immediate stripping down for me, once I got in the house. Straight to the laundry room I went, throwing shoes, socks, pants, and grubby towel into the washer.
And here’s the ironic part. I just did it all again today. Yesterday, my daughter ordered rain boots for me, but they won’t get here until tomorrow. This is assurance that the rain will stop, the sun will come out, and all the ice will gently melt into the grass without forming rivers in the streets—all because I’m finally getting rain boots.
You can all thank me later if this really happens.
Author of “The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living A Daughter’s Memoir”
Available at Amazon.com, dldbooks, and NLS Talking Books DB 91261