I am just an inside kind of guy, I guess.
I was reminded of that Saturday morning as my wife and I were out walking our two dogs around the neighborhood. We had gotten about halfway around our loop when it started to pour.
It made me mad at myself. As I had gone out the door, I had thought about taking an umbrella. Nah, the rain is over, I thought, looking up at the partly cloudy sky. Ten minutes later, I was clearly wrong.
The difference between Jenny and me is that she makes the best of it. You know what I mean. Cheery little comments such as, “Well, it’s not like we’re going to melt.”
Meanwhile, I’m slogging along with the rain pelting on my bald head and sloshing around in my favorite pair of shoes.
Her bright-side philosophy continued when we finally got back to the house. My only thought was getting out of my drippy clothes, when she said, “As long as the dogs are already wet, we might as well give them a bath.”
I certainly would never have thought of that, or if I did, I would have quickly dismissed it in favor of dry clothes. Fifteen minutes later, the dogs had been soaped up, rinsed and dried. Only we were still wet.
– – –
RiverFest Saturday had quickly turned into WetFest Saturday before my day had hardly started.
The weather got better, though, and we loaded up our concert chairs and headed to the Courthouse lawn for the Saturday night concert. After several trips to the vendor stands for some good, fatty junk food, we settled in to listen to the great blues beat of Sam Mosley and the Muscle Shoals Horns.
We enjoyed the show. But as the stage was being set up for the last performers, Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives, a few raindrops started to fall.
“That’s it,” I said. “We didn’t bring our umbrellas and I’m not going to get soaked twice in one day.”
Of course, by the time we had walked several blocks to the car, the raindrops stopped falling. But we had given up our spot, and we were too tired to carry our chairs back. We headed home for a good indoor activity – watching college football on television.
– – –
Fortunately, Jenny’s attitude about getting caught in the rain doesn’t extend to all outdoor activities. One of the things we liked about each other when we first met was that we both hated camping.
Several of our friends, and our grown children, enjoy roughing it in the outdoors. I always turn down invitations to join them on camping trips with the line, “I tried that for a year; I didn’t like it.”
Of course, that was in the Army, but, somehow, I don’t think tent camping has changed all that much over the years. Basically, you get dirty, there’s no place to take a shower or shave, and, when it rains, you get wet.
Jenny, on the other hand, has never been camping in her whole life.
“Why would anyone want to do that?” she says. “There’s no bathroom.”
That’s my kind of girl.
T. Wayne Mitchell, publisher of the Gazette, can be reached by phone at 662-534-6321 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.