Rain drops keep falling on my head

I'm home on vacation. Which normally is a relaxing thing. However, 10 people running around, hammering, sawing, and digging isn't very relaxing. Loud noises really bother me. It may seem sacriligeous, but I was hoping that they would slow down construction for a while, so I can have some peace.


Walled in. Weather forecast calls for cold and rain soon. So they're sealing up the back of the house every afternoon when they're done for the day. Doors and windows MIA. As are the slate tiles. Toilet is still in it's box downstairs. Nobody wants to carry it upstairs.


My idea for a little shelf above the window to make the soffit more useful. Useful for displaying taxidermy daschunds.

Lifecycle of a raindrop.


Pretend you are a rain drop and instead of clear skies and views of the Angeles National Forest, you have clouds and bone chilling cold.


Splat. Fallen on the balcony. Ouchie. There's steel mesh underneath the mortar coating to interfere with cell phone reception. This will be tiled over with slate and then the raindrops will go pitter patter.


And then the raindrops drain through the scuppers. Those metal spouts that stickout out in the middle. Part of me wants to put peeing cherubs where the scuppers are, but sadly, the budget is running on fumes. Besides, one cherub is interesting. Two cherubs may be ironic. But three cherubs, well, that's crossed over into old lady with french poodle territory.


From there, the rain falls into the sunken patio. Same slate here, but instead of pitter patter, it'll be more sploosh sploosh from the peeing cherubs. And then into the drain where the lost socks go to hide.


Tunneling underneath walkway. Gurgle gurgle. Let's hope nothing ever gets stuck in here. Because then our little raindrops will back up and flood the house.


And we make a left turn at the gas meter. No left turn blinkers required. A good thing too, because my car has a problem with making left turns right now.


Into the water catch basin. Otherwise known as mosquito breeding pit. There's a 1/3 horsepower sump pump inside that pumps the water out the other side. It's rated for non-potable water and effluence less than 1/2'' in diameter. Which is probably the size that a 1/3 horse would produce. Try not to picture what 1/2 inch effluence looks like. Or a 1/3 sized horse. Anyway. Raindrop. You're a raindrop.


When the water level gets high enough, it gets spit out through another pipe, underneath the roots of the Night Blooming Jessamine. Underneath the sprinkler pipe. This sound is most likely a whirr whirr. Which is probably more pleasant than the sound if there were 1/2 inch effluence being pumped out.


Under the fence and daylight again, to water the orange tree and continue down the driveway, to the street, past the "Flooded" sign, and into the storm drains.

So concludes the life of a rain drop. The End.