Surviving the Monsoon

Yesterday a roughneck asked me if I was on a diet, because I looked skinnier.  

How can they tell these things when I wear a monkey suit that could almost fit 2 of me?  

Today’s Exploit:

After my trip, I cut Myrtle back to 3.2 little-bitty sprigs of green.  I checked on her all the time and fussed like a mother hen.  My poor chickies were jealous, but they’re tough.  They’re still alive, right?

She was hanging in there, maybe getting a smidgen bigger.  And I was relieved.  I finally started to relax a bit when the storm came.  

It was a Thursday night, I was getting ready to go dancing when it started sprinkling.  It was nice.  It’s been dry for ages.  So I mostly ignored the fact that it was raining and went to the studio, where everyone complained that I didn’t bake anything.  Spoiled brats.

While we danced it rained more.  Someone noticed that a real storm with lightening and thunder had begun; they opened the blinds so that we could see.  

The next time I danced around it was POURING and gushing and there was water everywhere.  

I’d forgotten about Myrtle and the chickies.  

I went home in the rain and got drenched when I ran into the supermarket for a snack.  After watching the lightening for a while I went to bed listening to the thunder crack.  

I’ve missed real thunder storms, with lots of rain and big booms and flashes that make you glow if you don’t look away.

The next morning was sunny again.  I went outside to soak up the rainy smell and wake up.

And there was Myrtle. 

Drowning.

She had 2.72 inches of water above the dirt level in her pot.  I tipped her a bit so that the water in the base could run out.  It didn’t help.  So I, very carefully, tipped her so that the water in the top could drain some. 

Then I put her in the sun to dry out a bit.  

But the sun was still soggy from all the rain.

And then I got the call.  I had to go to a rig.  10.62 hours of driving.  Poor Myrtle.

We got to the rig and I stuck her in a nice window, but the box is rather cool and doesn’t have much air-flow.  

She was soggy for another 7.3 days.  

But she made it.

That Myrtle’s one tough cookie, I mean mint.