Mother Nature tried to alleviate a year of drought in last night's rainfall. And it is Olivia's fault, as all things are, that I now (and I fear permanently) sleep so lightly that your dog's snoring (at your house) can wake me up.
So it was that at 4:00 this morning I awoke to the gentlest of all rhythmic taps. Quieter than the rain, barely audible above the air conditioning, a tiny tap could be heard every ten seconds. That much time between taps makes tracking the noise very difficult;
I walked through the house pausing, counting the seconds, whipping around when the sound appeared to be in the direction from which I had just come.
Aha! The fireplace. I hear it! And in my glee of locating the sound, I forgo all common sense and open the flue. And you have the mental picture: water that had piled up, releasing itself only in drips, now liberated.
All I know is, I was petrified that water was going to spot Donna's new drapes. And that 4:00 in the morning is becoming really fun around my house.