It's been rather damp around here. For the last week, we've had a steady drizzle all day and all night. I've begun to expect little fairy rings of mushrooms to pop up in the backyard and fish to start living in a driveway puddle.
I don't mind it. The rain reminds of London and Ireland and Pacific Northwest and I find the temperate temperature easier to move about in than the typical hot sunny summer day. Besides, putzy weather's good for business at the museum and my blueberries needed some rain for plumping up purposes.And it offers me a break.
During the long summer days, it seems pointless to spend free time indoors. Not when there's gardens to weed, fish to be caught and exploring to be done. Although we did get out for a soggy hike on Wednesday afternoon, when I woke that morning to hear the steady pitter-pat of raindrops on the roof, I knew I had to cease my opportunity.
I washed the stack of dishes that were starting to teeter on the kitchen counter. I vacuumed and dusted. I even scrubbed the floor.
It wasn't glamorous,but with the crap weather outside, I had a moment to delay my crap summer housekeeping. I'm no neatnik, but I do feel a clean living space is an easy way to elevate your sense of worth and quality of living. That said, while a dirty house nags at my sensibilities, I'm pretty adept at tuning out those naggings. We spend most of the year in various states of squalor.
This morning I woke to shadows on the floor and the mercury in the thermometer steadily rising. Never fear, the cabin will look like a hurricane went through it before the day is done.