The day when the world ended in Erding - no, this heading has nothing to do with the departure of the German national team. Then we would have the eternal darkness since the shame of Cordoba (1978), the bankruptcies of the Berti boys (1994 and 1998) - but at the latest since 2000, when Mr. Ribbeck von Ribbeck would have preferred to stay in Havelland instead of the DFB-Elf to coach at the EM.
But let's not talk about football, but about the weather. Tuesday, shortly after 5.30 p.m .: It seemed to be a lucky day. I got out of the vaccination center in time for the soccer game and even into the car before the clouds broke. So, wipers on and let's go! Another 200 meters, then it would be done. I stop for a cyclist who turns off (!). Rumble, someone is already driving me on the back of it! Get out, record personal details! After a hand-stopped 0.63 seconds, my clothes are a single sponge. So drive the few meters home, clarify formalities in the dry!
That’s done. Then the next tough jobs follow. “The ladder has to get out of the cherry tree,” says the wife. In addition, it removes the flooding that we opponents of the accident have caused. Before that, she had already closed all windows, fetched all possible and impossible objects in flight from the garden and tied up the flower pots.
But now it's my turn. You can only go out again with underpants. Head away, back in, soaking wet again! We check our neuralgic point in the house. Of course, it presses the water in here again. So out again, seal from the outside! That works. But I'm really wet, no. The water is not only coming from the side like sandblasts, but is splashing in huge amounts from the overloaded gutter. But may I complain? Others pay a ton of money for their Amazon rain shower head in the bathroom. So back into the house - and don't get anything wet!
There is still lightning, thundering and hailing.
“Do you really want to leave the car outside?” We all know: that wasn't a question.
So out again.
Put the damn broken dung cart in the carport!
It really happened like that, a somewhat perplexed neighbor witnessed me driving the car in my underpants ... I'd rather spare you this picture.
Finally inside again, surprisingly satellite reception despite the storm.
The referee was just whistling when we got a Whatsapp from a neighbor: “You still have the hazard warning light on your car.” This time my dear wife goes out and I can watch football.
Which wasn't the best idea either.