We had a whole series of very heavy (as in, “no, you can’t see to the other side of the street right now”) rainstorms yesterday here in the Philadelphia area. A nuisance, but there are worse kinds of weather. No, what fried my Cheetos was going upstairs in the late afternoon and discovering that it was raining inside the bedroom. On the bed. Turns out that, sometime during the recent storms, our roof developed a hole.
So here’s my pirate photo. Please picture me pacing the poop deck with a pair of pistols. And a cutlass in my teeth, not that my dentist would approve.
(All right, this isn’t a pirate ship. It’s a reconstruction of one of the ships that brought colonists to Jamestown, Virginia, back in the 1600s. But it’s the best I can come up with. Give me a break, okay?)
And yeah. This isn’t just a first world problem, it’s a lucky-part-of-the-first-world problem. There are lots of people in Oklahoma right now who would be glad of a house with a roof that only leaked in one room (or glad of a house with a roof, or glad of a house) and lots of people in Central Europe who would be delighted with water that gurgled away down the storm drains within ten minutes of the end of the storm instead of sticking around rising higher and higher.
But I still have a soggy bed.