“You sound like a rainy day,” a friend remarked as I answered her call and rolled over in bed. I could hear her smiling her sympathy on the other end of the line; she knows all too well how it feels to wake up cloudy. As I peered over the pile of pit bulls in the bed to check the time, I was somewhat impressed by just how long I had managed to oversleep. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.
I guess that’s what happens when you go on a frenzied walking spree until almost midnight the night before. You have to actually, you know, rest the next day. There are nights when the only way to quiet the demons of overthinking is to break them at the point of exhaustion, and last night was one of those nights. I had a lovely little post all about it … but it was all rather emo and angsty and frankly, introspection is a topic worn too thin to not be irritating around here. I’m entirely too tired for snark, apparently.
Besides, I get distracted easily and when I looked outside, I discovered that the daffodils had escaped winter’s weakening grip and raised their colorful heads for the day. I liked their stubborn show of spring—and hey, a little color, no matter how drab and watered down against today’s overcast sky, never hurt anything.
Meanwhile, I realized the trouble with having a white dog on a rainy day.
