Cheated

I love the sound of the rain battering everything, ramming its sound through my sleepy ears, the wind making me grab my blanket, or grab a shirt to put on while I sleep.

Living in a condo robs you of that. You hear nothing of the pretty sound the rain makes. I even miss the sound of lightning and thunder, which I fear.

What remains constant is the sound of the traffic below, macho men in big cars parting the cars in front of it with their truck-sounding horns or their illegal siren. Yes, the size of a car and its beep are inversely proportional to the size of its owner's dick and brain. (Sue me for that. I may lose the case but I would love the headlines. Big car owners sue for being called small-dicked and pea-brained. Yes, I WILL demand visual, tangible, measurable proof to debunk the theory.)

I digress.

I have no roof. Ergo, I don't hear the rain pattering. The glass is thick and droplets rarely hit it.

I woke up to drenched streets floors below me this morning and I felt cheated. I didn't hear the rain again.

I want my farm. I wanna be outta here soon.