It's probably a good thing that there hasn't been more rain, as my room still reeks of wet newspaper from the last storm, which means the cellulose insulation in the attic is wet, which means the roof is still leaking. As there's no money for repairs, any serious rain is just going to make the insulation wetter, and heavier, and eventually will cause it to come crashing through the soggy drywall and cover me, whereupon I'll resemble a lumpy papier-mâché statue, be mistaken for Newt Gingrich, and be forced to run for office. That would cut into my napping time, so now I'm in the sad situation of being forced to choose between enduring a drought or suffer a lack of sleep. Could life be more unfair?
The black cat has gotten used to me running him off, and now just hides somewhere nearby until I go back indoors, then returns to pester the feral kittens. Sometimes they ignore him, sometimes one or another will play with him, sometimes they hiss and swat at him, but he is now a fixture. He has no real fear of me, and glares at me if he sees me through the window. I'll probably never be rid of him.