Fat Rain.

I'm standing dead tired in the Home Depot holding in my hand a gallon of N-62, which is not to be confused, the woman is telling me, with N-63, your two-in-one cleaner, or N-64, your basic wood prep. N-62 is your mildew remover. Will my deck be slipperier than owlshit, is what I'm trying to ask her, slipperier than it is even now? I don't know, she's saying. We've also got your outdoor bleaches. Then the roof starts humming and thrumming and she looks at me wide-eyed and says, Is that rain? I hope to God not, I say, for maybe the first or second time in my life, and she says, Sounds like rain. I buy one of your outdoor bleaches and also a pre-finished threshold and glass sconces of various sizes to replace those I've broken in my tenure here at 1303 N Elam and I head outside and sure as hell it is rain, completely unforecast, at least around this local forecast, which throws something of a wrench into the whole to clean or not to clean thing vis a vis the deck, and it's a big fat slow rain, huge cold drops, the sort where if it had ben colder I'd have stood there and thought, Damn, son, this may turn icy, but it wasn't (colder, that is), and so I came back home south down Battleground, outdoor bleach if not in hand then surely in back seat, and now here it is dark and way out at the end of the day and I'm dead tired still or maybe even more tired, but I'm over the disappointment of the rain and now at the place where I'm thinking back on standing in the Home Depot parking lot in that fat cold rain and I'm thinking that was up there with the best parts of my day. Even though I needed it not to rain, I liked that rain. Hadn't seen it rain that way in a while.