It was one of those mornings last Friday. Rain was coming down in sheets. As I looked out our kitchen window, the side yard looked more like a creek than a lawn.
But I wasn’t thinking about the lawn. And I wasn’t thinking about how years ago when I lived in South Carolina, I would not have been able to run the dishwasher or flush the toilet after a hard rain.
Storm water flowed into the septic tank there, essentially making indoor plumbing useless after a hard rain.
No, I was worrying about whether I had anything important in the bottom drawers of my desk at work.
It’s a silly thought, really. But it gets into my head anytime we have a hard rain. Or anytime the water is rising in the Tallahatchie River as I cross the Bratton Road bridge on the way to work.
There is very little chance that the same set of circumstances, including a nine-inch rain, will come together to result in such a severe flash flood as the one that inundated the Gazette nearly a year ago.
After all, the building has been there for more than 40 years and it was the first time water had ever risen high enough to actually enter the building. What are the chances we would have another flood right on the heels of the last one? Practically none, I guess.
I vowed not to worry about it anymore. That was after I moved a couple of things above the water line that is still clearly outlined on my desk.
It is spring, you know.
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It’s easy to tell that it’s spring by the amount of clutter on the shelf under the sunroom coffee table. At least to my wife, it is clutter. To me, it’s stacks of magazines.
I’m a magazine reader. Jenny prefers books. At one time I subscribed to as many as 14, but it has slipped to nine.
Each title has its own spot under the coffee table, starting with a couple of travel magazines on the left end and finishing with Newsweek on the right. In between are financial publications, Esquire, Car and Driver, Consumer Reports and a college alumni magazine.
The trouble is I am more of a magazine reader during the winter when the weather is cold and there’s less to do outside.
This time of year, I start falling behind. But I keep them organized by date, with the oldest on top, because I like to read them in chronological order.
It’s not quite as fussy as it sounds. (That’s a matter of opinion, says Jenny.)
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Another change with the season is the pet count in the Mitchell household. It is up to three. You may remember me writing about the cat that started hanging out on our patio and running inside when we opened the sunroom door.
Well, after three weeks of saying he’s Not My Cat, he actually is. Ziggy has gone to the vet to get “fixed” up, so he can become an indoor cat and join our two dogs inside.
Jenny used the excuse that it’s better to bring him inside because he’s scaring off the birds at our backyard feeders.
It works for me.
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.