Of Rainstorms, Sirens, and Stubborn Outlets: A Slice of Life from the Soggy Side

Written March 16, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Last night, the heavens threw a tantrum. I’m talking a full-blown, drama-queen, thunder-and-lightning kind of storm—the sort that leaves your backyard looking less like a lawn and more like a swampy film set for Jurassic Park: Suburban Edition.

Behind our house lies a charming little forest, complete with a babbling brook that usually plays it cool. But after this storm? That “babble” turned into a bold announcement. The creek puffed up its chest and swelled until it was clearly visible from our windows, showing off like it just got a promotion.

We adore our backyard woods. It’s like having our own private wildlife documentary on a loop. Deer tiptoe in like they own the place, birds tweet IRL (no app required), and opossums, squirrels, and foxes casually pass through like it’s a local pub. The deer, in particular, love nosing around the creek. My wife, despite having lived here for years—and despite living in Canada where deer are practically neighborhood regulars—still squeals with delight every time she spots one. It’s adorable, if a little confusing.

Speaking of confusion, allow me to introduce the sirens. Yes, those sirens—mystical creatures of folklore, or in our case, adorable tiny things allegedly residing in our stream. My wife heard about them from a coworker, who also grew up in this area and fondly recalled her childhood siren sightings as if they were no big deal. One picture later, my wife was enchanted. I, on the other hand, spend enough time outside doing yard work to claim I may have seen one myself—though it might’ve just been a toad with attitude.

And the forest drama doesn’t stop there. We’ve got armadillos waddling around like tiny tanks and, most recently, a skunk (which my wife charmingly called a “skank”—possibly a typo, possibly not) who created a tear gas situation in our backyard. It was… memorable. Still, my wife finds peace in watching all this wildlife wander by. She says it calms her, reminds her of camping trips from her youth, and helps her believe—at least for a moment—that humans and animals might just be able to share the Earth peacefully despite our talent for wrecking the environment.

Now, onto the domestic front: the storm had a bonus gift for us. It decided to mess with our bathroom’s GFCI outlet—the one we rely on for our trusty water flosser. Of course, the circuit tripped and then, in classic GFCI fashion, refused to reset. My wife, unwilling to break her streak of impeccable dental hygiene, marched off to another part of the house with a working outlet like a flossing warrior on a mission.

Meanwhile, we’re both holding out hope that the outlet magically decides to cooperate once the rain stops—because clearly, that’s how electricity works, right? If not, I’ll have to MacGyver the situation with an extension cord long enough to plug into the next zip code. Failing that, it’s time to bring in a professional, AKA an electrician, who will hopefully diagnose the issue and not laugh too hard at our over-engineered flosser workaround.

So, to sum up: the storm flooded our yard, teased out any hiding local cryptids, and picked a fight with our bathroom outlet. But hey, at least the deer are happy.