It's rained almost every day for a week here. I can't even remember the last time that happened. I really can't. It's worth putting up with the strange, thick humidity that makes it feel like you are breathing through damp cotton and the thick golden sunlight. Everything has gone vivid green, as if the weather was some magic spell waiting to be broken.
Now if only it would fall on the lakes and rescue them. Still, I am grateful enough for the soaking to the ground around my foundation, the water for my trees. A giant dead branch from a neighbor's tree came down last night and remains half crashed into our yard. At least it didn't damage the fence.
My ankles are torn up, covered in blisters and raw skin and scabs. Despite bandages, they seem to acquire fresh injury every single time I exercise. I am getting fed up with this. Not that I mind the pain. But I mind the mess and the interference with my exercise habits and blood on my socks.
I need new pants. This is good and bad. Mostly because I can't find the pants I want. I want black cargo pants and they don't seem to exist at any of my usual haunts. It would help if I wasn't short and I was a few inches thinner around the waist, le sigh. I'm working on the waist at least. There's no hope that I will ever get taller.
The rain makes the afternoon as dark as night.
I need new tattoos, but I'm having a devil of a time finding my way to what it should be.
