It’s pretty pathetic when, upon glancing through the window and seeing water falling from the sky, you 1) scream for your spouse to come look, and 2) grab a camera to memorialize the event.

It’s even worse when your spouse runs in and checks the Internet to make sure you’re not experiencing a collective hallucination.

The phenomenon lasted about five minutes. If that. The local weather website showed the cell right above us and nowhere else.

According to lore I learned in childhood, we damp ones have been 1) living right and/or 2) paying the preacher.

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*Post title taken from “Rain Song,” 110 in the Shade, book by N. Richard Nash, lyrics by Tom Jones, music by Harvey Schmidt. More about that later.