Rainy Day Feeling

dormerNot on the porch this morning. I tried it early, and the rain was not only creating a mist worrisome to my books, but it was noisy through the trees and on the metal roofs. So I spent the time in the comfortable chair in the office nook. I discovered it was quite noisy there, too, under a metal roof, and a little stuffy, and my foot still itched from fire ant bites. It was not so much the spaces that were uncomfortable, as me being uncomfortable within.  Really, no matter where we go, we take ourselves and our particular discomforts and discontents with us.

A good cry can sometimes help– it did me. And then you have to let go of what you can’t do anything about, namely our particular circumstances and weaknesses.

I got up, and still in my pajamas, checked the attic spaces for roof leaks, put a pan under one small one and gave thanks there were no more! At least that I could see in the front of the house. I was extremely frustrated not to be able to get into the attic space of the rear of the house, because some little children (or myself) have lost the key to the entry door, which is locked. Lordy, I tried that door, and you would think there was Fort Knox behind it. I can see the water staining the ceiling of the back screen porch, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. Okay. Let-it-go.

So here I am, tea in hand, and experiencing a rainy day, where I think I’ll start writing something. I might even do a quick outline. Once I quit looking at what I can’t do, the possibilities of what I can do are quite interesting.