Raindrips

I could begin by writing very poetically about rain. I could give it a hundred metaphors and a hundred more personifications, but it is enough to say that I absolutely love rain. Maybe even more than sunshine. It's like the clouds decided to let their long, condensed fingers fall gracefully to the earth and-
Stop! I said I wouldn't torture you by going into all that, and I will hold to that promise.
All this to say, it should be of no surprise that I was sitting, listening to the rain. I had hoped to hear the relaxing raindrops hit the deck.
Drop. Drop. Drop.
And then faster as the rainstorm intensified.
Drrrrropopopopop. Drrrrropopopopopopop.
However I was dismayed. The more I listened, the more I realized that what was falling in my back yard did not drop. There was no doubt about it. This rain was as odd as on off-key marching band (oh, no! A simile!). I listen harder: Drip. Drip. Drip. These were not raindrops, they were raindrips! What did that mean? Raindrips? What should I do? I had never heard of raindrips before. I mused until the rain stopped. Then, feeling too poetical than what was good for me, I observed the puddles scattered about my backyard. The water looked like regular water. It smelled the same, felt the same- it even tasted the same! After thinking about it, I decided that no one would really care whether rain dropped or dripped if it was all the same in the end. However, it was a pleasant change.
Now I had better do some geometry homework before I become completely lost in the complex and wonderful land of poetics, alliterations, personifications, and... oh, never mind. I'll just bring a map.