What's odd, what no one understands, is this: Rain often goes away when I want it to go away. Neither I nor those with me get wet. Last Tuesday, we had a wild storm here in Minneapolis.
The deluge comes first. It's always a downpour, never a light sprinkling. Sometimes thunder and lightning and sometimes hail make the storm worse, but those with me and I are still inside and dry. Last Tuesday, the deluge came first while we were in our discussion group.
Next, no more than a minute before we must trek from shelter to car, a brief period of draught embraces us. The rain and hail stop completely while the rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning stay close and scary. The draught lasts until we're settled in the car. We're still dry. Years ago the draught lasted for a couple of hours. Will it today? I'll never know. Who am I to put rain to the test? Last Tuesday, the rain had stopped. Nancy and I ambled to the car. Ambled.
The second deluge begins soon after the driver turns the key in the ignition. On Tuesday, Nancy put the key in the ignition and the skies opened. The downpour was so bad she could barely see, and like everyone else she drove at 5 miles per hour. She said she'd like to stop for a drink at a fast foot restaurant very near our apartment, but she wouldn't. Driving through, opening the window, why she could get drenched. I told her not to worry. The downpour would stop. Well, the rain did stop. Nancy got her drink. We parked and leisurely walked into the lobby of our apartment building. Two people in the lobby complained that they were absolutely drenched. They were absolutely drenched. As Nancy and I, absolutely dry, looked out the lobby windows, we saw the downpour begin again. I know it's odd, but we really were dry.
Friends are witnesses. One who has been through my deluge/draught cycle at least four times asks me to make it stop raining. The last time she dropped me off at my apartment. There was no rain. As soon as I entered the lobby, it began hailing. She had to pull her car over to the side.
On Tuesday, I went upstairs and watched a movie.
I watched a movie.
I have a similar power but unlike yours conferred by God to the natural world, mine is conferred by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to the technological world.
ReplyDeleteI have the unique power to turn a green traffic light red. Let me approach a green light and there is about an 90% chance that it will turn red. I used to think that it was just luck or had something to do with the manner in which I drive, perhaps keeping a lot of room behind the car in front of me. But my new theory is that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, employing alien technology recovered from a crashed UFO in Forest County, has secretly implanted a device in my head that they use to calibrate the traffic lights. If the light does not turn red in time to stop me, the device sends a radio signal to Harrisburg informing Penn DOT that the light is in need of service.
I tested my theory one time by placing a tin foil hat on my head and driving around. I achieved a normal rate of red lights, but also got a severe headache. The tin foil apparently blocked the radio waves to the lights and Harrisburg, but redirected the waves within my skull causing a microwave like heating effect. Now you understand why I value anonymity...if word got out that I am the guy causing the damn lights to turn red, you can only imagine the indignities that would be heaped upon me.