Drought? Call Oggy

As soon as I completely remove any complicated assembly on my van that leaves it exposed to the weather or inoperable, a weather system moves in as if the Big Director in the sky yelled, "Cue the Storm! Oggy, prepare to curse!"
And my stiff rye neck cranes upward to the icy rain, my fingers frozen in worn wool gloves, tattered, aching back from the couch that's 5" too short for my ramrod arthritic knees, and my spine creaking like a barn door. Damn Rain!
"Chance of wet snow..." says the voice talent on the radio before returning to vapidity of gossip and taking calls about broken marriages...
I look back at my damn van that has no window and I rub my numb thumbs. I will persist in this line of attack because all work is equal except this work benefits only me...and there was a time that's long gone when specialized labor did not exist and culture was candles burning in monkey heads. My latest get rich slow scheme is a business modeled on the donation jar. Housework and yard work for low income families and the elderly...pay what you can. I think that some people join the army and believe they are helping America. I need something more local so I will live in my van and rake lawns for people on welfare and Social Security.