The Dawn of Man

About 3:30 am I woke up. There had been rain. There was a loud and persistent "Drip . . . Drip . . . Drip . . . " outside of my groundfloor apartment bedroom. I had heard this before, from time to time, over a period of months. But today, like those primordial apes in Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey," I experienced a transitional moment. Some spark of intelligence, some inventiveness inspired me. Like my supposed forerunners, I scavenged from materials around me. With a side from a cardboard container of Famous Amos cookies I diverted the offending flow of water inside the drain spout. The nuisance of the drip was gone, I returned to my dwelling, and slept - - kind of.