Wrong day to roof

. . . To put it mildly.

The tail end of the system that spawned Tropical Storm Beryl up the Atlantic Coast drenched Key West. Those are streams of water, not mere drips, coming off the front porch. "Great time to build a house," Nathaniel said in passing, dry humor on a wet day. Steve, under the floor stringing conduit again, had made the literary transition from "The Metamorphosis" to "A River Runs Through It."

Roofing was out. But one pre-roof errand wasn't. Denny reminded us that we needed weatherproof vents (how appropriate) for the bathroom fans, and we needed to get them in place before the wizards of tin start their magic.

Easy, I said. I'll drive out to Stock Island to pick 'em up. So as the rain tapered off, I started for the apartment and the car. A minute into the walk, the skies opened so wide that turning back was pointless. "Soaked to the skin" was more than a figure of speech, so I kept on truckin'. Fortunately, it was a warm shower, and also fortunately the Boy Scout in me had packed a baggie in a cargo pocket just in case the camera ever needed some weatherproofing.

After I toweled dry and changed, the real adventure began. Stormwater at White and Eaton was over hubcap level. U-turn. On parts of Flagler, it was only up to the rim. Slow ahead. MacMillan on Stock Island was only rim-deep. Slow ahead -- until the return trip, when it was up by 6 inches or so. U-Turn. And so on. Key West does have some rapid-drainage issues.

By the time I hydroplaned back to the house, the pool had filled up to the bottom of the steps, but it was only drizzling, and Ref was cracking the whip to get the rear of the second floor sided. Something about making hay while the sun was shining somewhere.