On the subject of Rain and Sitting on Radiators.

While the first today it seems was invertible, the second sweetened my deal greatly. I love rain. One of my favorite childhood memories is to do with rain. It takes place in the summer, during the sweet, tropical, type of rain. I am in an attic on top of an old wooden datcha (summer house). The atmosphere is hot and stuffy, and the air smell of burning herbs. The air sickly sweet. I am sitting on the rough wooden planks that constitute for a floor and am leaning eagerly towards the ill - fitted window. Outside the rain is pouring in steady strings, ignoring the supposedly sunny time. I close my eyes and all my senses turn to sound. The pitta patter noise of strings of droplets hitting the roof intensifies and multiplies in the dust filled room. I take a breath deep enough to choke myself on the stifling air and begin to daydream. My breath evens out to the rhythm of droplets and I am lost.
That's my good memory of the rain. My worst - or one of my worst - memory is not bad in the sense of things nor is it terrifying. It does however appeal to the prideful side of my mischief. It takes place near the same datcha as mentioned before. The detail of my memory are blurry but what I remember is me and a couple of friends (Sashka and Denis) were digging a grave for a bird. I think one of them found it somewhere and we're decided to give it a proper burial. Now we're already made a grave cross - a couple of sticks - and began digging. Now knowing our luck, it wasn't even raining, it was pouring. So there we were, standing behind the bushes of my family's datch, soaked to the bone trying to bury a bird. The there was a flash of lightning with a minisecondal succession of thunder. The rain must have intensifies, as we decided to give up and run. As we neared the door, lighting struck again, at the same time thunder exploded in our ears. Now have you ever been 75 or so meters away where are lightning struck, as it struck? I have. Our ears were ringing but the thunder seemed to go on and on in our heads.
Sashka lives just down the road, it was his neighbours water canister that was struck.
Is it wrong of me to be twistedly proud that I went through that and nearly went deaf?
Having said that, generally I like rain, I like the smell before and the atmosphere after. But to me it seems the best way to enjoy rain is somewhere hot and dry.