I love rainy Autumn days, but this yawn-inducing greyness is playing havoc with my sleep center. If we were having all-out storms as we did last month it would be different. The electricity in the air rejuvenates me and lifts my spirits, but this drizzly kind of weather is different. It's quiet. Few cars pass by, no one is out walking their dogs or pushing prams. No students ride their bicycles. Lorider remains curled up on her faux fur throw in the bay window...
I have things to do today and little desire to do them. It is an altogether gloomy Tuesday although I am otherwise in good spirits. I showered, I dressed, I made the bed, poured a second cup of coffee, and here I sit telling myself to get up and take my laptop to the post office, vacuum the carpet, clean the litterbox, put on some music.
The lane in front of our cottage is bright orange from the flooding; our state is known for its red soil. I like it because it makes me half-believe that the streets are still made of brick in this town. They used to be and a few, downtown, a few blocks away, still are. When my mother and I spent two weeks in a town south of here in 1959, it was the orange brick streets I remembered most. I loved them then and I love them now.
One more cup of coffee and I'll get busy.