Go away

I am so tired of the rain that I may do an Anti-Rain Dance. I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but I think it will entail drinking a crapload of Olde Fenestre while shaking my fist at the sky and yelling “Thank you God! Thank you so bloody much!“

Phillies games keep getting rained out, I can’t mow my knee-high grass, and worst of all, Charles has SERIOUS cabin fever and is bored as all get-out. (Actually, if you ask him, “Charles, are you bored?” He replies, “No, I’m a little boy.) It looks like Thursday is going to be nice, so Charles and I are planning to hit the Flower Market for one last fun evening before the baby comes, so obviously the baby will probably come early because, based on the insane acrobatics she does inside my wife’s torso, my daughter is a saucy wench.

After Thursday, of course, it’s going to rain some more, except for Mother’s Day, which is fantastic except that we’ll be in hospital enjoying hospitality. On the plus side, the lawn is growing nicely, except that I have no idea when I’ll have time to cut it, so I’m sure I’ll get to it after the baby comes and it will be 17 inches high. Unless the neighbors complain, and the county comes to do it and bills me, which if the price is reasonable may become my means of lawn maintenance for the summer.