And normally I love the sound of rain. Except that in this case it sounded especially vivid, like one of those rainforest noise machines (I personally have never wanted to sleep in a rainforest, mostly because of those creepy red-eyed tree frogs that look like they would waste no time chewing off your lips in your sleep).
As my eyes fluttered open around 3 a.m. it dawned on me, like that babysitter urban legend:
The rain is coming from inside the house!
Indeed, I leapt up to find droplets springing from our windowsill--not through the window, but through the wood. Figuring our upstairs neighbors had left their window open, I called them to complain, but they didn't answer. So I stumbled around gathering towels and mixing bowls, which sort of kept the deluge off the floor.
|It's nice to know the water is brown, though, isn't it? Our ceilings must be full of chocolate.|
*He's quitting, don't worry. The baby will not grow up in a cloud of Pall Mall smoke.
**Also, he's fine. This story does not end in the hospital. In fact, it ends here, because I am too tired to think. I tried to go back to sleep but then a leak sprung over my pillow--only on my side, of course. Then I curled up at the foot of the bed and had a stress dream about an earthquake, during which all of our neighbors came into our apartment while I was naked. Also, it was still raining inside. Only that part wasn't a dream.