Today's task was simple. We planned to paint the front of the building atop the Moroccan room. The Barn red has GOT to GO. It's on everything and its old. So we went out, ran errands, purchased a few quarts of paint to experiment with and returned to the house. With the heat in the 80's we were dripping from the shopping trip. We brought out all the brushes, scrapers, paint, rollers, tarps, etc to the roof and began our task. The Sun came out and after an hour I had to come inside or risk bursting into flames. I was already in shorts, a super light weight tank top and sandals and I was still cooking. After another hour we completed painting a section and called it quits. We came in, washed the brushes and cooled down. I checked my email. Then Rossana says "Hey, its raining." Sure enough. Despite a blistering sun only minutes ago. Big, fat drops of rain started to fall.
"The tarps and other stuff is still on the roof"
Although this was a statement, I recognize a directive when I hear it and put on my sandals and ran out to pull all the stuff to the porch. I also had to turn over our rowboat the vengeance so it wouldn't fill up with water. By this time I was soaked and out of breath. No reason to run, there was no way I was going to stay even slightly dry. In fact, the rain itself to so warm it actually felt good. It was slowly washing the stinging sweat from my eyes. I went inside but Rossana was already in the shower using as much hot water as the plumbing could provide. I didn't want to just stand around dripping waiting for the shower so I grabbed a bar of soap and stepped outside where I proceeded to strip down and take a shower in the rain.
Let me say, it was a damn refreshing shower. I lathered up and just let the rain rinse me off. Our shower is a stand up stall and I'm 6'2. It felt great to be able to clean up without smacking my elbows into a door poking myself with the shower head when I'm trying to wash my hair. And thanks to the excessive greenery surrounding our property no one called in any Bigfoot sightings to the local police.
Try doin that while livin in the suburbs. Country livin. Gotta love it.