A Rainy Day

It’s raining today.  First rain in a few weeks.  Busker, my cat was raring to get out the door until he noticed the water dripping on his head and nose.  He did an about spin, turned tail and sauntered back up the stairs towards the kitchen.  I couldn’t blame him.  Not only was it wet but, there would be no bugs to chase as he usually does to keep himself occupied.  It would be a romp around the backyard, endless moments of licking himself dry then coughing up rather large and disgusting furballs hours to days later.  I was thankful he’d decided not to go out.

I’d always thought of rainy days as good days to get something done around the house that I had been putting off for months.  The rain constituted no excuses to start clearing out an overly stuffed closet or drawer that I’d been avoiding.  Nowadays, I prefer to think of them as free days.  Days in which to read or do crossword puzzles.  The closets stay filled and perilous when you open the door.

When I was a kid, a rainy day was time to use imagination.  My sisters and brothers and I would use a blanket, string and few clothes pins, erecting a tent in our livingroom.  We’d bring in flashlights, though they weren’t really needed and read to one another, tell stories or talk about things that were going on in our minds.  It’s funny how we often think that something is so important at the time, only to look back upon it and find it all frivolous fluff now.  Inevitably, we’d end up talking pure nonsense, making one another laugh so hard that it would bring the attention of one or the other of our parents, telling us to take down the tent and quieten down.  More often than not, we’d end up wrestling in our construction, knocking down a lamp or knick-knack or two if they didn’t stop us.

My great grandchildren spend rainy days in their separate rooms, complete with televisions, stereos and computers, playing electronic games, texting or messaging friends, or other solitary pursuits, scarcely noticing that anyone else existed within the walls of their home.

There are no other people within my home.  There’s only Busker and I and even Busker seems quite content, curled up on his chair, sleeping the entire day away.  I, myself, feel rather sleepy and would like to take a nap but, fear being awake all night if I do so now.

So, here I sit, like my great grandchildren, spending a rainy day upon my computer.  I have played a few games on it, read a few blogs, sent an email to my grandchildren and am writing this entry as my final task before I log off for the afternoon and attempt to do something constructive.  I will at least, open the door of a closet but, likely close it back up again, using my foot and cane to shove the fallout back in before slamming the door on it all as it threatens to fall out.

Another rainy day will bring this back up again.

However, right now, it feels more productive to take a nap.  Think that’s what I’ll do.  Busker just flipped over onto his other side and stretched before closing his eyes again.

There’s no use in fighting the urge.  Tomorrow’s another day and I have no urge to build a tent today.


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