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My Profile
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone... - 2009-11-05
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6:44 a.m. - 2009-07-02
I know I'm supposed to be cursing the rain. I do understand this past month's excessive rain has serious consequences for some- farmers especially, and that it's a depressing inconvenience to lots of others- brides, pedestrians and users of public transport, folk whose emotions are solar powered, and those of us living with caged-up outdoor athletes. Athletes denied their fixes of hike, bike, racquet and golf club and are pacing the house snappish and growly. But I have a not so guilty secret…I am loving this rain. Why? Because it's July 2nd and I have the windows open. I am smelling the fresh earthy air. I am listening to the twitter of songbirds and the funny muttering chatter of the wild turkeys. After dark I hear the frog chorus and watch the lightning bugs stitch the darkness with glowing flickers. When the rain stops and the sun shows itself I am forced to run around slamming the windows closed, drawing blinds, closing shutters and my world goes very small. My office becomes a dim cave with the necessary but hated window unit a/c endlessly racketing and roaring in my ear. A few sunny days in a row and the house is my prison. The heat and the filthy outside air with its weighty ozone are foes my body can't win against. The rain keeps the temperature and the ozone down. With my weather-proof hairdo and all cotton wardrobe I'm not bothered by running my errands in the rain. Futzing in the garden is easier still- no cumbersome sun hat and the weeds pull out from the soft dirt with ease. I miss the sun as much as anybody during a long snowy winter. Once the holidays are over and spring is forever away. The sleety murk, grey snow and sloppy gloomy sky get to me too. But I can't regret this rain. It's keeping me free. I know it'll stop soon enough and everybody else will cheer. They'll break out their barbeques and lawn chairs and happily strip down to the skimpy clothing that's just this side of public decency laws. The sun people will throw parades and pool parties and watch baseball games. They'll compare tan lines and happily suckle paper cups of Italian ice. And I'll be here entombed in my dark house miserably counting the weeks until the first frost and I can come out again.
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