Less than clement

We are having a lot of rain. It’s been raining since Tuesday or so, and it’s Friday afternoon now. I think it’s due to stop on Sunday.

I shouldn’t be sorry that it’s not a hurricane, because hurricanes are bad and this is causing plenty of problems just with flooding, but I was sort of looking forward to being cosily housebound for a day or two. With electricity of course; not the uncivilized sort of housebound. The sort where you bake things and watch movies and do jigsaws companionably and nobody goes stir-crazy and kicks balls inside the house and splits their head open on the hearth because they were doing gymnastics off the sofa onto the coffee table.

Oh wait, I was envisioning a nice cosy hurricane without children. We had one of those in 2005 when we lived in Texas. Emily, it was. A category 2 that whirled past the town causing a wall to fall on some cars. We assumed our apartment complex would deal with any boarding up that should be done (they didn’t do any) and our friends who lived across the way came over to play Trivial Pursuit and drink wine. It was just lovely. I probably made nachos, or a cake. There may easily have been mojitos.

But still. It’s cold and wet and miserable, and now that I’ve finished driving the length and breadth of [a small portion of] the Beltway, where things are not improved by such conditions, it’s really the nicest sort of weather for making a vat of chili and opening a bottle of red, with salted chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. We can have a hurricane without the hurricane, and sleep soundly to boot.

That’ll do, then. And nobody needs to split their head open.


I admit this is not today’s rainy view. There are still leaves on the trees.

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