Rainy days and COVID always get me down

padang

    Aug. 1: It’s raining. It’s finally raining. After weeks of hot, dry weather, nothing but depressing news,
    and a pandemic that will not go away, it is raining a constant steady straight-down rain.
    So today I am writing in the shelter of an outside pavilion in my backyard, so I can hear the rain on the
    tin roof.
    “Honey,” I said to the wife, “I’m going outside to write.”
    “You’ll get wet,” she said. “Your notebook will get moist and hard to write on. Your eraser will smear
    when you erase. You’ll catch your death.”
    “But it’s 71 degrees and I’ll be under a roof. I’ll stay dry, my notebook will stay dry, and FYI, I don’t
    erase, I reapply my words.”
    “But it’s damp and clammy. You’ll catch your death.”
    You’ll catch your death. Wow. This old idiom is as relevant today as it was back then. In the 1600’s it
    was a warning to loved ones that if they didn’t dress properly for the cold and rain that they would
    contract a cold or virus that would cause them to die.
    It’s pouring now. The tin roof over my head is playing a percussive tune that is cathartic. It assures me
    that if I stay under its protective cover, if I stay within its four square posts, that I will not catch
    my death.
    Alerted by my phone the wife texts, “Are you OK? You’re still out there in the rain and you don’t even
    have a raincoat.”
    I text back, “I’m fine. I’m dry. I’m still writing.”
    “What do you want for supper? How about some nice hot soup? You’ll need soup after being out in the rain.
    And after supper I’ll warm some Vicks- VapoRub to put on your chest so you don’t catch your death.”
    Texting back I said, “Soup sounds good. Let’s hold off on the Vicks for now.”
    I can’t help but think how this pandemic is making that old expression from the 1600s more applicable
    than ever. Wear your mask or you’ll catch your death. Wash your hands or you’ll catch your death. Stay 6
    feet away or you’ll catch your death.
    My phone vibrates. It’s a call from the wife. “Hi honey, it’s me. I was wondering if you would like a
    grilled cheese sandwich or crackers with your soup. Or we could have both. And I was thinking some
    applesauce on the side would be nice.”
    Me, “That sounds wonderful, dear. You take such good care of me. I’m almost finished writing. I’ll be in
    soon.”
    The rain is letting up. You can almost hear the ground gulping down every drop. It’s cleansing, stripping
    the air of pollen and pollutants. It’s given me a much needed break from the reality of our days of
    breaking news and horrible politics.
    I hope each and every one of you enjoys the rain as much as I do. And I hope you wear your raincoats … so
    you don’t catch you death.
    Author’s note: Even the funny man has some rainy days.
    Raul Ascunce is a freelance columnist for the Sentinel-Tribune. He may be contacted at
    [email protected].

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