Rain check

First thing this morning I told a colleague that if one more bad thing happened, I planned to pull the door shut and quietly go to pieces in my office. Then it started raining.

On my desk.

Now I have nothing against rain per se--some of my best friends are rain!--but rain and I get along much better when rain stays in its place (i.e., outdoors) and out of mine (i.e., my office). Sure, April showers bring May flowers and all that, but I'm not planning to grow any May flowers on my desk, or June or July or August flowers either. When rain comes knocking at my door I pull in the welcome mat, and when it starts dripping down the walls of my office, I call Maintenance.

"We'll check the water level in that bucket periodically," says the cheerful guy with the ladder, "because if it fills up, it'll come crashing right through the ceiling tiles."

And what do you suppose sits just below the ceiling tiles holding up the big red bucket collecting rainwater? My desk, computer, telephone, books, piles of paperwork, family photos--just the stuff that resents the introduction of rainwater into its immediate environment.

So I am delighted, simply delighted that competent persons have the problem well in hand, and every time I hear the drip-drip of rainwater filling the bucket or look up and see that gaping hole in my ceiling, I'm thankful that I'm dealing with a mere leaky roof rather than, for instance, a tsunami or bubonic plague or a bus fire. It could be worse! I could have anvils falling on my desk, or even iron safes or pianos. When pianos start falling from the ceiling, I'm getting a new office.

But the rain in my office has put a bit of a damper (ha!) on my plan to have a nervous breakdown this afternoon. I guess I'll just have to postpone the hysterics until the forecast is more auspicious--partly cloudy with a chance of panic. Until then, I'll take a rain check.