I can breathe a sigh of relief and those little muscles at the base of my skull have loosened. Why, you ask? What possesses that power, the power to soothe the angreh Lili?
I’ll tell you. Simple. It’s raining!
It started while I was walking Miss B, a spattering of drops and the firs sending up a glorious gout of celebratory balsam-smell. Then there was a fine silver curtain of drizzle while I stood on the deck out back, not caring if it was acid rain washing all the particles out of air that’s been dry for weeks. Now it’s a steady tapping on the roof, and I am so, so glad.
I’m a winter writer, I guess. I’m at my most productive when the weather is filthy outside. I love rain, it’s one of the reasons I live in this part of the country. And now the proper season has started, and I no longer feel so parched and shriveled.
Now of course there will be mud and running in the cold wet, and damp dogs, and more mud, and baking and soup-making, and did I mention the mud? I’ve been dancing around whistling Gene Kelly, getting up to check the size and health of the puddles, and I’ve been more productive this afternoon than I have in WEEKS. The Cinderella book (shhh! you’re not supposed to know about that yet) is coming along nicely in revision. It doesn’t suck as hard as I thought it did (though plenty hard enough, thanks, ha, I went there, YOU KNEW I WOULD) and there are even passages where…well, it might not be all bad.
I’m not sayin’ it’s good, I’m just sayin’ it can possibly be fixed.
Thank heaven for the rain.
Over and out.