I’m happy when it rains

An evening after a little rain, view behind my house.

One evening the sky suddenly darkened and it poured like I have never seen it pour in my entire life. I take that back, it poured like it was a monsoon in Zanzibar, and that is unusual for desert Los Derramaderos. I sat on my “porch” rejoicing in the blessed rain, munching on my guava, smiling with Shakira and thinking about my auyama and how big they would grow with all this rain. It suddenly occurred to me that Spider Monkey would love to join me and Shakira, since we are quite a happy family.

I ran into my house to get her, and in about 1.239 seconds I was flat on my back with a throbbing elbow, having realized three things: (1) I had forgotten what water does – it makes things slippery, especially in Crocs, (2) there were about 30 holes in my roof and EVERYTHING in my house was getting drenched, (3) tarantulas come out of their holes when it rains, and, apparently, into my house. I quickly recovered, temporarily forgetting my pain, and with broom in hand I learned what the phrase “taste of blood” meant. I tore threw the hose, hacking the beasts up, their bodies exploding and abdomens, legs, heads, bouncing off my own.

When I couldn't find anymore, I 'came to', and actually grabbed another guava and again tried to go back to that happy rain place.