Today dawned gray and gloomy and cool. No true rain fell, but the air felt wet anyway. In search of warmth and color, I topped long pants, socks, and closed-toes shoes with a bright blue long-sleeved shirt as well as my scarlet red rain jacket before striding outside. Though the back yard and sidewalk were dry, by the time I’d walked about ten feet toward the front yard, I encountered mist and saw that the sidewalks out front were all wet. On my drive I found similar dry/wet patterns—thought I’d get carpal tunnel in my thumb turning the wipers off and on and up and down.
Since the warmest part of the day happened early, once I made it back home, I added another layer to my clothes, then closed windows and turned off ceiling fans—goodbye to the lingering summer feel around here.
This is the kind of weather for reading books or watching movies—or both. So I ran out again to visit the library, grab a movie and a few more of the books recommended by my library advisor, and prepare myself to hunker down . . .
which wasn’t too hard when the dogs looked at me with those eyes.
That’s right—here I sit with my dogs, computer, blanket, and books. Though I’m still wearing street clothes, my pajamas are starting to call my name, but, hey, I’ll at least wait until my husband slogs home through the rain—wouldn’t want him to think I’m too much of a sloth, right? Besides, it’s not as if we live in Seattle or anywhere remotely wet—we get those famous 300 plus days of sunshine here, so a little bit of sloth on a rainy Friday night goes a long way.
Anyway, tomorrow morning I have to think and learn at a writing workshop. How about I just say I’m conserving my brain cells and call it a night.