Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

It would seem that ever since Ol’ Robbo brought up the topic of lightning strikes last week, Ma Nature has been out to hocus me. Yesterday afternoon saw a series of strong thunderstorms roll through Your Nation’s Capitol, in the midst of which I had to make my way home to Port Swiller Manor. Standing on the above-ground Metro platform and waiting for the inevitably-delayed train, dashing out to the parking garage at the other end of the line, rushing in and out of Total Bev on the way home to pick up necessary medicines; At no point did I not see lightning flashing all over and have thunder continuously rumbling and crashing in my ears.

And all the time I kept saying to myself, “Self, this is stupid! If you get struck down now, you’re going to feel like a complete moron for all eternity.”

Yeesh.

Oddly enough, although it bucketed at Port Swiller Manor, too, there is no fresh flooding in the basement. This inconsistency is one of the pieces of the puzzle Ol’ Robbo has yet to fit into place. (We’re having a pro out next week, by the bye, to assess the situation and give us a no-doubt ruinously expensive estimate for fixing it.)

On a related note, my little electronic porch thermometer chose to pack up and die the other day, so I took the opportunity to upgrade a bit. The old one merely provided indoor and outdoor temperatures. The new one gives “weather forecast, outdoor temperature and humidity, indoor temperature and humidity, moon phase, date and time, alarm and slumber, barometer.” La. DEE. Da! I won’t bother with a model that also includes a wind vane function because I don’t believe there’s any place immediately around the house where I could get an accurate reading, what with all the swirling about, unless I stuck the thing on a hundred foot pole, which I’m sure would draw the ire of Mrs. R.

And of Ma Nature. Target, anybody?

**  A reference to the patter-song of Mabel’s sisters in “The Pirates of Penzance” of course. On that subject, not that it will ever happen but Ol’ Robbo would love the opportunity to sing the part of Major-General Stanley some time, and not just because of his famous send-up of Sir Garnet Wolseley. Ah, well.

UPDATE: The relevant chorus:

How beautifully blue the sky,
The glass is rising very high,
Continue fine I hope it may,
And yet it rained but yesterday.
Tomorrow it may pour again
(I hear the country wants some rain),
Yet people say, I know not why,
That we shall have a warm July.
Tomorrow it may pour again
(I hear the country wants some rain),
Yet people say, I know not why,
That we shall have a warm July.
Tomorrow it may pour again….