It's been raining for several days now. I kinda like it. It makes the temperature bearable and I love the sound of plinking into puddles and trickling down the storm drain. Besides, it's the one time when there's that earthy smell that is simply rain.
When I lived in Chicago rain meant a battle. A struggle against getting too soaked walking, against puddles, against overhands ready to turn into waterfalls, against car tires spraying up walls of dirty, gritty water.
I'm so glad I moved.
Although the sounds of the night are different they are still remarkably the same. Instead of hearing homeless guys fight in the middle of the night and the 161 bus ding that it has arrived then ding again that the doors are closing, I awoke several times last night to the sound of a couple fighting.
Around 3:00 a.m. a car peeled out of the parking lot making the strangest noise given all the water sloshing around.
At 5:00 a.m. he's back and banging on the door of the apartment then on the window of his girlfriend's bedroom. Cindy let me in. I'm sorry. let me in, okay? Then Fuck it, Cindy, let me in. Then You want me to wait? Fine I can fucking wait and the car door slams again as he sits out in his car patiently waiting.
Or not so patiently as thirty minutes later he's back to banging on the window and yelling into the glass before he again slams the car door and peels out of here.
They only moved in a few days ago; this could be an interesting year. Much more entertaining than the homeless guys in Chicago.
