the water beads on the windshield

Dragged myself out of warm blankets and the dubious comfort of dreams to face the drizzle this morning. The post office was not so busy, however there was one entertaining case. This overly skinny, obnoxious woman in leggings and with spikey bangs that recalled the hapless wife of Johnny Depp the Redneck in The Gift, with four weighty boxes. All of them were going to Hong Kong, bearing mysterious contents. She didn't seem to understand why a customs form was necessary, or why they might not like it if she admitted to not knowing what was inside, other than a sketchy admission that it was probably "bottles, homeopathic medicines, medical equipment and stuff." The woman behind the counter kept laughing behind her hand, and I couldn't fault her. It was a trifle bizarre. They ultimately found her a cart and sent her away without mailing any of her parcels.

I made it to the counter without incident and chatted with the postal employee about cookies. So my package is now wending its way safely off to New York, and should be there in two or three days. Hopefulyl all those packing peanuts will keep them from being turned into crumbs. Cookies of mercy, take flight.

I suppose that if it keeps raining in this desultory fashion and the temperature drops again, we might have ice tomorrow. Which means a day of doing nothing, watching the local news and counting car wrecks because ice in Texas is a disaster. I should probably go to the store. Going back outside is a daunting thought though.

My head aches, which must be a consequence of the dreaming. It was dark and strange after the parts I played last night.