Wednesday, July 7, 2010

No argument here.

Having a husband who works in construction means that in this house, we keep an eye on the weather. He is not allowed to play outside with the twenty-foot drill boom when there's lightning about.

With the current soggy situation, the eye cast upon the weather updates is a jaundiced one. Sour commentary issues from the disgruntled man on the couch.

"We could have worked today. It's not that bad."

I nod absently, engaged in arranging a spider plant that seems intent on enveloping the nearby appliances. There is a harrumph from the couch, followed by the rattle of newsprint.

"Look. It's barely sprinkling. I think we could have worked today."

I refrain from reminding my spouse that thirty miles, the distance from our house to the quarry, can make quite a difference in weather. He's not in the mood for rationalizations; he wants to grumble. I offer the suggestion that perhaps the quarry isn't paid up on its lightning insurance. This provokes much scoffing.

"There ain't any lightning out there! I could go out there right now and..."


As the windows resettle in their frames, we listen to the steady waterfall sound of a Kansas downpour. We peer out the back door at the swamp that was once our yard. Through the curtain of rain, we can just make out the rain gauge. The new total since yesterday now stands at four and a half inches. My husband clears his throat.

"I think I'll go take a nap."

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