We are not used to rain around here, shut the windows, stupid

Circumstances… Circumstantial Evidence… both seem important. However, when one gets down to it, circumstances may help to explain, but if the right evidence is there… I’m in trouble.

It started out as such a miserable day. Looked like it was going to rain buckets… any second. It was hot and humid. I’d put off doing the grocery shopping all weekend, so Monday afternoon, I found myself with some time off, and combined the shopping with a quick visit to a friend whose husband has been sick.

I glanced over the bags in the back of the car and decided that twenty minutes with the sunroof open would not ruin the cottage cheese, the beef steak, or the half gallon of milk I’d gotten on sale for ninety-nine cents. If it did, that was ok. The milk was probably sour anyway.

The lady who works for me was supposed to leave at five o’clock. The food had not been in the “warm” car more than thirty-seven minutes when I dashed out to the car and hurried home. It was worth it. We’d both gotten in several good stories about how smart the grandkids were, what angels we were to take care of our men so well and reported on the cheap milk… that was going “to the bad” as we spoke.

I parked the car in the drive and with the help of the real angel who had been in charge for two hours while I meandered around the grocery store and visited my friend, I brought in the groceries. Immediately, I put away the milk and cheese and slightly warm steaks. I got busy with dinner preparation. Maybe I should ask her if she can cook.

By ten o’clock, we were both tucked in our beds. The dogs were snoring. Ken was snoring. I was reading. Thunder shook the house. Lightning flashed across the sky. After the drive from the carport. Did I close that sunroof?

The rain began to hit the windows. Was it hailing? Who cared, it was raining through that sunroof.

I jumped out of bed, found some Sunday shoes in the back of the closet and ran out to the car. Sure enough, it was raining hard. The Sonic rappers and Braum’s receipts were floating in each of the front seats. I jumped in, started the car and madly raced down the drive. Closing the sunroof “after the cows had gotten out,” I sat in the puddle and wondered what to do. Not a towel, a napkin, paper sack, or bailing bucket was available.

Without a thought for my own safety, I ripped off my cheap cotton-knit gown and began to mop furiously. It was very dark outside. Our neighbors were all in bed. The fence is high. I ran around the front of the car, opened the passenger door and used my now drippy gown to soak up the rest of the mess. Wearing the wet gown, I headed back in.

Would my neighbor’s doorbell camera focus that far away? Was it raining hard enough to see that far? Was that a police car that drove by slowly just now?

I stood in the darkened house for several minutes waiting for the policeman to come back. During that time, I made a list of all the people I could call. They were going to kill me for waking them up… but so what?