Wet Varmint

I don't know if it's ever irritated me more to start cutting the grass and have to stop than it made me today.  

When I got home, the sky was clear.  One small, puffy, little white cloud hung cheerfully in the sky above my house.  The air was hot and the ground was very dry.  

Quickly, I changed clothes and readied my mower, stopping only to fill my stainless cup with a half gallon of water.  As I pulled out of the garage, the clear blue sky greeted me warmly.  

On my first pass, I felt something wet hit my arm.  "Big bug," I thought.  As I came around for the second pass, the were a couple of taps.  Looking directly up, there was nothing in the sky above, not even a cloud.  As I rounded the corner, halfway through the pass, however, I looked back towards the house.  

Hovering there, menacingly, was the ugliest, gray cloud.  All around it was blue, though.  Surely it would blow over.

Wrong.

Midway through my third pass, I was almost swimming.  

I have no memory of pulling the soaked and grass covered mower back into the garage.  Yosemite Sam had been channeling through me since midway through that second pass.  I heard him say, "Ooo... I hate you" as I glanced back out from under my dripping hat at the rain-soaked yard.