. . . Only Happy When It Rains
As I’m writing this, it’s raining in Memphis. Which, around here, since it’s autumn, means little more than it’s a day that ends in “-y”.
I have to confess, I’m one of those weird people who prefers dreary days, even when we’ve had more than our fair share, as we have in the Mid-South recently. Rain is good, heavy rain is better, and storms are just fabulous (assuming the power doesn’t go out — I do need my electronics to work, thanks). Something about the rain gives me a sense of peace that I’m ordinarily missing.
Don’t get me wrong; I don’t enjoy driving in the rain; Memphis traffic is crazy and dangerous enough on a sunny day. And I’m pretty tired of having little league baseball games rained out — fall ball is quickly turning into winter ball around these parts. But once I get home? That’s a different story.
On the rare occasions when time permits, my greatest luxury is to curl up under a blanket with a good book. And if I can do that on a rainy day, or night, well, I’ll gladly trade in the satellite dish/DVR, the laptop, and the Wii for a good, old-fashioned paper-and-ink book. The opportunity to get all comfy in bad weather and lose myself in another world is more than enough reason to disconnect from Twitter, Facebook, the phone, and all of the other distractions.
Mind you, I haven’t tried it with a Kindle. And if anyone I’m married to that’s reading this thinks I should have one for my birthday or for Christmas, I’d certainly be willing to give it a shot.
But in the meantime, I think I’m going to head on to bed while it’s still raining. I’m interrupting my current reading projects in order to re-read Twilight and New Moon before the next movie comes out next month, and it seems like a perfect night to make a visit to Forks and then fall asleep to the sound of the rain. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. ‘Night, y’all.
