|It was too wet to go out, it was too wet to play...|
It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old – three, was it, or four? – never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days…. Winnie-the-Pooh, A. A. Milne
Oh, all right. It hasn’t been days and days and days. But it feels like it. At least every other day. Monday I woke up to pouring rain and high winds. The world was drenched. What was the point of getting up? What was the point of getting dressed? It was certainly far too wet to garden. Humph!
I did eventually get up. I had tea, and a long drawn out breakfast (Lent is over! I can have a pecan roll!). I read, and puttered. I did not let myself go back to bed and pull the covers over my head, which was very tempting. I listened to the rain drum on the roof and skylights and the wind roaring in the trees and whistling around the downspouts. The daffodils did their William Wordsworth thing, only in the rain not the sun. I watched the trees swaying and thrashing, and the birds clinging to the wildly swinging feeder. Somehow they managed to hang on and eat. I was glad I’d remembered to refill it the night before. The wind and the rain caused waves in the birdbaths. Surf’s up!
It was a restless day. I wanted to go somewhere. I have not gone anywhere for a couple of weeks. I have not even left my yard. (So much for walking every day.) I usually don’t go much of anywhere other than to work, or the grocery store, or to church. Now work and church are closed. I have a small grocery list, but - are those items really necessary? On the whole, yes. But I’ve put them off, feeling vaguely guilty at the idea of going to the store. What can I say? I was brought up to follow the rules and have a conscience. It’s a nuisance sometimes.
Thinking wistfully of visiting bookstores, I managed to get my act together and accomplish a few things. I scrubbed the shower. I washed sheets. I cut my toenails and rubbed lotion into my feet, gave myself a foot massage and a foot workout. Feet need TLC too, and we do take them for granted. And it takes so little to make them happy. I washed the throws on the bed which the cats sleep on. They’ll be covered in cat hairs within 48 hours, but I can admire their cleanness until then. I went through and discarded more magazines. I decided there weren’t enough dishes yet to bother washing. I drank more tea and read some Winnie-the-Pooh, because it was that kind of day.
All three of us were restless, which only exacerbated the feeling. At least my husband gets to go to the post office six days a week, and to his office for a few hours most mornings. And his home office is upstairs in the loft. Otherwise it’s rather hard to escape from each other in our small house. Of course, if I got my work table in Zee’s old room cleared off I could escape there and write something, or make something. At the moment it’s piled with books and papers and miscellaneous items I can’t quite bring myself to get rid of, or find a place for. So I postpone making those decisions. I’ve always been an expert at putting off till tomorrow what I should be doing today. That way I’ll never run out of things to do, right? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to work?
Whew! It was actually a relief to go to bed and read myself to sleep. And, Hallelujah! it had stopped raining!
The wind was against them now, and Piglet’s ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along, and it seemed like hours before he got them into the shelter of the Hundred Acre Wood and they stood up straight again, to listen, a little nervously, to the roaring of the gale among the tree-tops.
“Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?”
“Supposing it didn’t,” said Pooh after careful thought.
Piglet was comforted by this, and in a little while they were knocking and ringing very cheerfully at Owl’s door….
“Correct me if I am wrong, [Owl] said, “but am I right in supposing that it is a very Blusterous day outside?” The House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne