This was taken yesterday afternoon on my way home from work – mere moments before the sky opened up and hail the size of golf balls started pelting my car.
The torrential downpour and balls of ice were all the more special because I got my car detailed on Monday. Normally, July signals the end of the rainy season. So I thought I was safe. But, really, I should have known when Finfrock took Tuesday night off and the chick replacing him droned on and on about our negative chances for rain and the triple digit highs that would be plaguing us throughout the week. To be fair, it was 103 according to my car when I left the museum at 5:30 PM. But it was 71 when I arrived home six miles later. I almost needed a sweater.
And since our freaking sprinkler system has yet to be completed (thanks to the City, not the sprinkler install guys), the sudden deluge has left my yard a muddy mess. I wouldn’t be bothered that much by it (hey, rain equals free water), but