Like a duck's back

A month ago, on a day when black clouds were rumbling in the sky, I hiked over to Half-Buck Freddie's -- the Fast Buck outlet -- to pick up a storm jacket. I'd noticed them marked down from the 40s to the 20s.

"Nice color on you," the clerk said. He remembered me as a local and gave it to me for $17, bless his heart. His parting words, a spot-on forecast: "It's not going to give you a chance to use it today."

Nor for the next several weeks -- there have been nighttime drizzles, but nothing more. That didn't stop me from rolling it up in its own hood, wrapping it in a bungee cord (left over from hurricane preps) and hanging it on a pocket of my cargo shorts.

Until today. Big rumbles at lunch, and as I headed to the apartment, big drops.

And when I got home and hung it up to dry, I looked over at the banana plant in the corner by the pool. This is waterproof: