Rain, Shrain!

You know the story of the little boy who cried wolf!?  I've been living in that story with my fellow city people.
Every year, right in the middle of a long hot summer, comes the exciting season that claims our fame.  Monsoon!  But this year, everyday since August, the little weathermen on the hill have pointed to their fancy weather maps claiming, Rain!  Rain!  The roving reporters, with their sleeves rolled up, wearing shades and sunscreen, are shown outside on the most wet corners alongside a little, almost dried up puddle.  My favorite nights have always been when I wake up to pounding rain and thunder and lightening.  So far this year, not a single "wet" night has convinced me.  It has sprinkled, but that's it.  Don't get me wrong, the sky does look threatening, and it's enough of a change from the heat that us city people get excited.  But day after day of this is enough.  I have worn thin of hope.  This time of year, the weather usually is the hot topic, but any more, I look at the sky and yawn.