By Jan Marshall
When I was notified I had won a prize for rainmaking I was gob-smacked while trying to close my umbrella. The last one to win that prestigious award was Burt Lancaster whom I’m often mistaken for without my makeup.
I don’t know what came over me, but after some graffiti artist seeing the unwashed car wrote “dirty girl” (though I’m actually a “nasty woman”) on my car, I was glad his pen got stuck in the dirt.
I was then forced to wash my car by hand.
Here I was trying to be a good citizen by conserving water in our drought-forsaken state and was actually being berated for it. Still, it did bring the rain and so I will accept graciously (unlike Bob Dylan), the accolade.
Now I’ve been receiving threatening notes saying “ENOUGH ALREADY!”
What you should know is that I am only in charge of causing the rain though not always stopping it, so shush!
I admit the excess has caused distress. Even the animals in my Mission Viejo neighborhood are walking two by two seeking an ark or two-bedroom suites at Heritage Pointe.
The rain caused a roof leak here. Nothing is covered in my monthly fee except for the battery in my smoke detector. (As I do not do much comparison-shopping, does anyone know if $7500 a year added to my monthly rent is exorbitant since it can’t be repaired until the rain stops for good which nobody can predict not even Al Roker who may even move here (I never knew he was Jewish!)
I made calls to various roof repair services myself. No one was available until June. I asked what I should do until then and coincidentally, they all gave the same spiritual advice, “Pray it doesn’t rain until then.”
I realized the storm was a tad lucky for me as I couldn’t attend yet another baby shower for my second cousin who was having her fourth child with her third husband, who had planned to drive me to the event.
He had also promised to have a vasectomy the first of the year, but he couldn’t start his car as his battery got wet.
Sadly, he couldn’t pick me up. YAY!
I mean Gee, tsk tsk…too bad