Remember those posters that said,
"Today is the first day of the rest of your life"?
Well, that's true of every day but one - the day you die.
Or should I clarify that by saying you almost die.
Today was that day. But not for me. For the g-pigs.
Harry is home with a cold today and it has been positively pissing down buckets. All day. He even came out of him room, at one point, to ask me to turn the rain down as he could not hear the movie.
You know that type of rain? Rain which could be described as sleeting, torrential, unrelenting or a downpour. Rain that makes you change your plans, because you cannot go out in it.
THAT rain. That was the rain hanging over our suburb today.
It was so thunderous, I took a snap out the front window, whacked it on Istagram and made some lame comment on how our place was now a waterfront property.
I walked back through the house and grabbed a glass. Pouring myself a water from the tap, I glanced out into the backyard where a scene of horror was being played out.
The Guinea Pigs were swimming around in their hutch. And not in a relaxing way.
The hutch had been placed into a section of grass that was surrounded by concrete, a long abandoned veggie patch I do believe. The concrete had turned the area into a deep, swirling pool of fest.
I fucking had a heart attack.
"Harry.... HARRY!" I screamed as I rushed to the back door. He quickly ran out and took stock of the situation before saying....
"Well, I'm not going out in that rain. And can we get Debbie to get Jack for us..... because it is just too rainy."
He had not even finished his selfish objections before I made off like a hippo crossed with a gazelle, leaping over the trailer which stood in the path. I am not an elegant athlete, and so when I came off the concrete and hit the slippery mud, I skidded for a metre or so before landing on my ass.
Like the Terminator, nothing was going to get in the way of me saving XO and Fooey Fooey Moi Moi and as I reached them, I flung open the door to find two guinea pigs on the very edge of death.
I quickly scooped up the sopping wet father and son, and raced back into the house, as drenched as if I had just stepped out of a shower. I sat down next to the heater and yelled at Harry to fetch me two towels.
It was here that my patience was tested to the extreme.
He bought me a wet face washer and bathmat from the bathroom.
I told him that I needed two dry towels, and sometime before the pigs died would be great.
Harry started to run around the house in the manner of a headless chicken. I told him to go to the linen cupboard.
He didn't know where that was.
I told him it was next to my bedroom door.
He came back with a bathrobe from the back of my bedroom door.
I took a very deep breath and said very deliberately and slowly.
"Darling, in the hallway, next to the entrance of my bedroom, is a brown box with a door. That is the linen cupboard...."
Two towels were produced and I lay one across my lap, underneath them, and the other was across the top of them, with hot air from the heater providing some sort of stream room experience.
I stayed like this for 40 minutes, until they were dry. XO shat on me and Fooey Fooey Moi Moi tried to bite me. I have set them up in the laundry so I can make further obs on them this afternoon and overnight.
And tonight, I shall raise a glass to my own braveness.
And soak my dress in napisan.
Ever saved a life?