Rainy Sunday

I used to have a decorative "Holly Hobby" plate that hung on the wall in my kitchen. It had a quote on it that said, "Count the Sunny Hours and Forget the Rainy Days." I dropped it on the floor one day and, of course, it broke in a million pieces. For some reason I never forgot that phrase and almost every time it rains, I think of it.

One such "rainy day" occurred in early spring on a Sunday morning. We had just finished breakfast and I was cleaning up the kitchen. I happened to look out the window and saw Helga running up the ramp of her deck with her cane. She hurriedly went inside her house. This seemed a little odd to me, because Helga is partially disabled and not able to move that fast. A few minutes later she came back outside and rushed down her ramp as if in some kind of distress. My husband, Mr. Man, and I decided it might be a good idea for him to walk over and see if everything was OK.

The rain was still coming down. By the time Mr. Man got across the street, he saw Helga at KC's gate trying to rescue Ebony the dog. She had been concerned for some time that the animal was being neglected. The dog had been whining and its broken tie out was caught on something. Ebony couldn't get untangled and the doghouse was tipped over on its side. The dog finally broke loose and Helga was actually trying to lift her over the fence, which was an impossible feat. She told Mr. Man that she had already called the P.D. Sure enough, the police cruiser rolled up and he was thinking to himself, "What have I gotten myself into." As Helga's emotions began to get the best of her, Mr. Man took over and was able to fill the officer in on some of the neighborhood issues with KC, the dog's owner. (Remember her? She's also cat hoarder of the century.) The officer offered some suggestions for Helga, but there was nothing they could do at that point, because the animal seemed to be OK. Mr. Man convinced Helga to go with him and got her back to her house. It is interesting to note that KC did not, at any time, come outside to see what was going on and this ole gal doesn't miss a trick!

Just when we were thinking that the rest of the day would be kind of dreary and uneventful, I got a call from M. She had seen Smitty banging on Fancy Nancy's door. He was having an anxiety attack because his vehicle was missing. Nancy finally answered the door and he told her that Jay, his low-life roommate, had taken off in his car the night before and had not returned. He wanted to know if Tommy Boy, Nancy's boy friend, might know where to find Jay. Nancy and Smitty then jumped into her old clunker and rushed off to see if they could find him. Having no luck, they returned to Nancy's house and Smitty ended up walking back home in the rain. Then, some of Jay's friends showed up at his place and told him that Jay had been arrested for driving on a suspended license and Smitty's car had been impounded. Well, he was in a panic because he didn't have any money for the fee to get the car out of impound. Lucky for Smitty, his brother came to the rescue and his car is now back home. There seems to be such on-going drama in Smitty's life. It's not that he goes looking for trouble, but it sure seems to find him no matter where he roams. He just can't stay away from the elements that make up, as Helga puts it, "the underworld."

So, the next time it’s raining outside, I’m sure that old phrase will pop into my head, “Count the Sunny Hours and Forget the Rainy Days.” However, after all that ensued on a particular Sunday in early spring, it will remind me of one “rainy day” I won’t soon forget!