Frustration Increases with Rainfall

Shelton Laurel resident Dana Nagle awoke this morning to the sound of rain pounding on the roof of her temporary home, a 1971 Tradewinds Land Yacht Airstream. Yawning and blinking herself into full consciousness, Nagle groaned. "It's so loud," she said in vain to the dog, who couldn't hear her due to the volumes of both the rain and the dog's snoring. She closed her eyes to try to block out the reality of yet another deluge. Even through her closed eyelids, she saw the electric flash of unseasonal lightening. A few moments later, the thunder roared ominously, a long threatening rumble, like a trumpeting warning to all of humanity. Nagle thought to herself, 'that sky is MAD.'
She reluctantly rose from the little bed in the kitchen and forced the dog to accompany her outside. Both bladders needed relief from a nighttime of slumbering containment. The rain poured on the leaky tin shed rood awning in front of the camper, dripping in here and splattering in there, allowing no true shelter from the downpour. In spite of the aching bladders, neither human nor beast had the slightest inkling of desire to step out into the water. They stood, dampening even under the cover, looking pathetic as they gazed out at the river which used to be the driveway. Muddy water flowed in a steady stream from both coves and the construction site and the garden, gathering momentum and volume as it approached and ultimately flowed into the branch just below the spring. Large puddles covered most other surfaces of the ground. It was a dictionary definition of supersaturation.
Dana Nagle felt an unsettling heat begin to churn in a deep part of her.
"Goddammit!" she said to no one, realizing the source of the heat was nothing other than a rain inspired Bad Mood.
Dog and woman stood miserably for a few minutes in the deafening deluge before the grumpy lady ushered them both back inside. The shelter of the aluminum camper, while warm and mostly dry, offered absolutely no refuge from the roar of the rain. "It's exactly 100% like being in a human sized tin can," Nagle sometimes tries to explain to others, a meager attempt to describe the "difficult to describe-" the experience of being in an Airstream in the Pouring Rain.
A half hour passed, and the rain finally let up enough for Dana and dog to step out and use nature's facilities. Dana decided to seize the moment to unload a large metal table from her truck, awkwardly hoisting its wet weight out into a puddle, all the while slipping and sliding on the earth's muddy surface. The internal heat of the Bad Mood rose again, and again she cursed, to no one in particular.
Stepping back into the camper, she felt like a wet rat. While attempting to dry off, she accidentally kicked over the dog's bowl of water, which flowed across the slightly unlevel floor. Again, Nagle cursed.
When the floor was mostly dried, the dog returned from her morning business. Nagle let her in, towel in hand, determined to wipe muddy paws and contain the uncontainable mud and mess. Dog shook and muddy watered splattered upon the surfaces of most belongings in the camper.

Nagle cursed.