Rain

I never know what kind of shoes to wear when it rains.

I suppose if it were 50 years ago, then I would put on my boots or galoshes or rubbers or whatever you called them. Perhaps if I wore Crocs, those would work. As it is, most of my shoes are leather, and getting them soaking wet, in rains such as we are having today, is just not appealing.

But wear the leather shoes I did - not sure what my options were. Going barefoot doesn't seem like the best choice.

I had hoped that extending the back of our house 10 feet might magically cure the mini-flood we get in our basement when it rains. No such luck. It's not really a flood so much as a trickle, a small stream of water that comes in and flows directly to the drain. It's not a big deal, but all the same, I guess I wish it weren't there.

Yet it is. I have to deal with it.

I keep telling myself that when this work is all done I'll be able to focus better on the tasks at hand, that my house will be all tidy and organized, that I'll just be extra-productive around here. I'll finish all these projects, and I'll get busy with some of that writing I say I'm going to do. That's my intention, anyway.

And I do think that once my house is in order, I'll be able to focus better. I need an organized environment for my mind to function properly - some people are not affected by clutter or mess, but most people I know are and have difficulty concentrating when surrounded by a mess. That's me. And I feel surrounded by mess - two sets of table and chairs in my dining room, an upstairs hallway full of Sylvia's books, a kitchen that is overflowing.

It's becoming tiresome to write, and tiresome to read. But it's a fact, and it's hard for me to get over it when it stares me in the face. Every. Day.

The rain has stopped and the sun is peeking out. A little sunshine does wonders for the soul.