That’s our forecast. That’s been our forecast for several days now. Except it’s been more than a “chance” of rain. It’s been rain. Real rain. I am grateful it’s not snow. I think. Although snow is prettier than rain.
So all this to say the forecast has been what it is for long enough that I’m catching it. Gray, rainy days have found their way into my brain. My brain then says “Hey! No reason to dress – spend the day in your sweat pants and robe. What the heck. Sit, just sit, with iPad in lap and keyboard nearby in case you decide you want to say something. Not that you have anything to say, but you never know.” That’s what my brain says. And it tells me I don’t want to go for a walk. It’s wet. The wind is cold. Yech! It tells me, no, the Christmas tree and decorations can wait. You don’t want to haul them in from the garage in the rain. You really don’t. So I don’t.
Instead, I linger in my chair(s). The morning room chair or the family room chair, it really doesn’t matter. Unless perhaps I need to nap. then the family room chair is so much better. I loll around, I plan things to be done. I don’t do them, but I plan. That’s half the battle, right? Maybe not. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll get busy. Tomorrow I’ll gather some pine cones, cut some cedar branches and some snowberry twigs and create a wintery, Christmasy bowl for the dining room table. I’ll bring in the tree and the decorations.
I’ll take the big furry girls for a walk. We all need to walk, but the rain, the wind, the cold keep me in. My girls hang with me. Most of the time. Unless they go to visit The Gracious One and her husband, who keep a ready supply of dog biscuits. Guaranteed treats at their house. When they go for that walkabout, Shasta returns first. She gets her treat, plays a bit, then when it appears there’s no more in it for her, she comes home. She doesn’t feel she should go in their house unless I’m there. Bailey? Different story. She’ll go in and visit, then she’ll linger on their garage apron. Because The Gracious One, being gracious, will keep the garage door open for her, so if it’s wet or cold, she has a dry, somewhat warmer place to lay. Some days I decide she’s been gone for long enough, and make a retrieval trip. But my girls aren’t spoiled, you understand. Not at all.
Eventually, you know, guilt will overtake me. I am an expert in the old WASP ethic guilt thing. It’s slow kicking in sometimes, and usually kicks in during the wee hours when getting up to do something about it would disturb the rest of my household. So I don’t. After awhile, however, it kicks in during daylight hours and then I find making excuses to continue being lazy intolerable, and I am forced into doing something. Disgusting, huh? Yeah – I fight it, and sometimes I win, but most often I do not.
So now – now I’ll insert the last London photos here, because they are gray and rainy, and then the trip to Poland will be complete. Then I’ll go clean the body and put some real clothes on it. Then – then I’ll do something constructive. Or sit in my chair and read. I see a spot of blue in the sky. Maybe we’ll go for a walk.