She awoke, threw back the covers, and greeted the new October morn. The rain fell in sheets and carried the soggy, but brightly colored leaves along the gutter. Well, so much for "October's bright blue weather!"

Sarah had planned on raking up the multicolored leaves and then later lighting them with a match and enjoying the Autumn smell of Summer's smoking remains. There wouldn't be any leaf burning today!

Now, what could one do on a rainy day? Count one's blessings, of course. Being 72 and in fairly good health, except for a few aches and pains, was one big blessing. Why, Martha Conner, down the street, was only 61 and she was wheelchair bound, poor woman.

Washing the weeks dirty clothes and bedding wasn't a choice. Where would she hang them? It was 1937 and a clothes drier was just a George Westinghouse futuristic dream. To hell with housework! She decided to bake a pie.

Sarah did her morning, never changing, routine. She washed herself, brushed her teeth, brushed her gray and thinning hair 100 strokes and was dismayed to see at least 50 more silvery strands stay with the brush. She dressed and searched for her umbrella. Aha, there it was hanging by its strap from the door handle of the Hot Point refrigerator. Now how in the name of Great Ceaser's Ghost did it get there? Some silly witless woman must have hung it there as a joke.

Picking up the half bushel basket, from its place beside the livingroom floor lamp, she exited the back door and stepped out into the falling rain. Trudging out to the gnarled apple tree, she picked a dozen apples from the lower branches. She hurried back to the porch and shook herself like a wet dog. Somebody had forgotten to open her umbrella and when she found out who it was she would give that person what for!

She peeled and cored the bright red apples and left them on the stove as she scooped flour into a mixing bowl to make her pie crust. Rolling the crust out and forming it in the pie pan took only a few minutes. This would be a perfect apple pie. She carefully laid the apples in the crust and arranged them neatly. Then she added a cup of sugar to sweeten the pie just right, covered the open pie with the rest of the crust and popped the finished pie into the oven.

While waiting for the pie to bake, she sat in her rocking chair by the Stromberg-Carlson floor model radio and listened to her favorite program. Grinning and laughing at the trials of "Old Ma Perkins" That silly woman sure could get herself in to some fine messes!

Glancing at the Seth Thomas mantle clock she was surprised to find an hour had passed and her apple pie should be done to perfection. She scurried to the kitchen and opened the oven door. There sat her perfect apple pie all baked a golden brown...Wait just a minute, it was raw and uncooked. Someone had turned off the gas just the minute she had turned her back. If she ever found out who was playing these tricks, she sure would teach them a lesson!