Rainy Days

2009 drivewayA friend on Facebook noted this morning that today seems like a Monday. She must be susceptible to popular-music syndrome, subcategory Carpenters, because it is a very rainy day.

looking westward toward the new neighborsʹ back yard

looking westward toward the new neighborsʹ back yard

I awoke late because Janet wasnʹt going to work today. Itʹs her departure for Milwaukee to visit her sister for their annual Fall Festivus (nineties-television syndrome, subcategory Seinfeld); this wonʹt be a pleasant weekend for them unfortunately. When I arose at 8:30—after a long night (not falling asleep for an extremely long time, for me, but profitable in that I solved quite a few story problems and developed a new angle on my Stars first chapter/short story)—but feeling rested awakening two hours later than usual, it wasn’t raining, although it had sprinkled at least during the earlier morning. The forecast called for rain this afternoon and evening, through the night, and all day Friday. It started sooner.

Janetʹs autumn decorations bedraggled

Janetʹs autumn decorations bedraggled

By 9:00 a steady shower had begun, continuing through Janetʹs departure a half-hour later, and then increasing into a drenching downpour that only now (about noon) is easing back to a steady rain. All this is bad for me because I had the truck loaded with cans and bottles to take to the recycling/container-buying center. The cans would be all right, I guess, collected into three large plastic bags, but the bottles are all neatly placed into their cardboard packages, and those six-packs wonʹt survive the trip downtown in decent shape to let me carry them inside. So I wait (and work a little; I do have to incorporate all those good insomniac ideas I mnemonically encoded in the word “tocsin” to remember for today).

out the front toward Crestridge

out the front toward Crestridge

Rainy days are gloomy regardless how one tries to alleviate that dark side. I knew the rain was coming, I knew I would have to endure/enjoy this solitary four-day weekend. I even felt ready to face it all with aplomb. But once the rain really started hammering on the house, the gloom began to descend, and as the rain increased its heavy presence, the mood darkened more. Worse, it feels cold, and it is far too early in the year (and I am far too cheap) to turn on the heat.

I threw hot chocolate into my coffee. Iʹm even considering transforming that concoction into a Snowy Evening (see below) soon. I set up digitizing the Rolling Stonesʹ Their Satanic Majestiesʹ Request. I started writing this. But nothing lightens the gloom. I may retreat to reading, which I have decisively avoided in my quest to behave like a writer not a reader.

Rain falling all over town

rain falling all over town

Even as the rainfall has diminished to relative inaudibility (at least in comparison to “Sheʹs a Rainbow”), the feel of the day remains gray, dim and tiring. Thoughts turn to weary topics (like eating pop-tarts or making a pizza, taking a nap, or going for a long drive). Sitting in restaurants can be fine on dark days, and thereʹs another fantasy wasting my time (but I donʹt think I feel up to eating out alone today, either; after all, Iʹd have to go to all the effort of unloading my cans and bottles).

Yesterday was clear(ish), and I was full of energy to do things. High pressure must make me feel fine and lows low. So much for rainy days and Thursdays always get me down…

Snowy Evening: a drink

  • Make coffee (preferably flavored: toffee coffee, caramel or Highlander Grogg)
  • Mix hot chocolate with coffee two-thirds up a big mug
  • Add a shot of crème de cacao
  • Add a shot of coffee liqueur
  • Fill mug full with cheap Irish cream
  • Drink several
©2009 John Randolph Burrow, Magickal Monkey Enterprises, Ltd, S.A.

3 thoughts on “Rainy Days

  1. Congratulations on the new blog! Sorry to hear the rain gets you down. My cold heart just loves the dreariness.

  2. Iʹve grown wearier with age, Blythe. As a kid I was a rain and thunderstorm fanatic (I still fondly recall sitting out a howler inside this old, blue ʹ54 Ford my dad had been forced to buy in the mid-70s when his vehicle broke down somewhere in Missouri).

    —Oh, and the blog itself is really your fault, you know. I should be spending my time writing words that might someday generate an income…

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