Small Hope in Rain

It’s raining again! The cedars are moving uneasily on a dripping breeze and all trace of ice is washed away. I woke up with You Make Me Feel Like Dancing playing at top volume inside my head, nice and peppy. Considering that I had a Michael Bolton earworm all weekend, it’s a nice change.

I always feel better when it’s raining, anyway.

There’s a full day on the docket. I have to somehow focus through the burning of the world and continue work. Words have to be made–there’s a long-awaited combat scene I have to at least start, and a couple of monster hunters to get out of a hotel as well–not to mention dogs have to be walked, my own weary corpse has to be run, and I suppose I should stare blankly into a webcam and try to say something that doesn’t sound silly in the face of All This.

A tall order, especially that last bit.

I made focaccia yesterday. The Princess is neutral on it, but the Prince and I can do serious damage to a loaf within a very short time. I could have added some garden rosemary, but decided against it. Making something, anything, is pretty much the only way of beating back the darkness for me right now. Bread. A pair of earrings. A few words on a story before I run out of energy and sit, staring, into the abyss.

My heart hurts. It’s a sharp pain, and jabs when least expected. Sometimes I think I can feel the organ cracking, though I know perfectly well it’s made of meat and the agony is emotional. The body doesn’t know the difference, and I haven’t been running enough to purge a lot of the stress chemicals. That ends today–things have reached the point where I can’t afford not to run. Maybe it will shake me out of myself, give me a little hope.

It’s taken an inordinate amount of time to type this, between staring at the cedars out the window and gauging how cold my coffee is now. (Answer: Tepid, and will soon grow downright chilly.) The dogs, having grasped that Water Is Falling From the Sky, are content to let walkies wait…but not for long, since habit and ritual both demand they start irritating me as soon as my coffee cup is truly cold and it’s toast-time. At least I can take some comfort in their obliviousness; as long as they have morning kibble to ignore and Mum stays in her office staring into a glowing box, all is well with their world.

Sometimes I wish for their ignorant bliss. It certainly looks nice. I know the only hope lies in just holding the line, doing what I can, and making my own little corner of the world as calm and quiet as possible, but I don’t feel like it’s enough and I agonize over not being able to do more.

Be kind to yourselves today, my beloveds. It’s perfectly reasonable to feel overwhelmed at the moment. Hopefully I can escape into the stories for a short while today–and hopefully you can find a little relief somewhere too.

Over and out.