What a rain! After spitting and sprinting all day long, the heavens let loose after dark, and the downpour pounded for hours. This morning the rain is still falling--not so hard, but steadily. The sun isn't up yet, but I'm sure everything is absolutely sodden. We haven't had rain of this magnitude for a very long time.
Cellar looks dry, though, so that's a plus. No crazy electrical problems, no roof leaks: just a wood fire and pie-baking and finish-reading-the-Iliad-under-a-couch-blanket kind of day.
Today the weather will quiet down and maybe even turn sunny. I need to grocery-shop and vacuum, and I've got so much desk stuff worrying me. But I'm trying not lapse back into Friday's super-fret. Things will get done as they get done, and I'm really not behind schedule. It's more that I feel over-tasked by my work and too responsible for things I can't control. Tomorrow my car goes into the garage, and the weird noise will be solved. Tomorrow I'll stand at my desk, and I'll get a chunk of editing done, and I'll write out the prompts for the Homer class, and I'll read contest manuscripts. The days will march forward, and at some point I'll find space to deal with my own manuscript corrections. It will all be okay.
Thus, today I'm going try to focus on house obligations so they won't be preying on me for the rest of the week. Floors, laundry, dusting, groceries . . . and with luck a walk or a bike ride. The garden will likely be too wet to work in, but the time has come to tear out the peppers and the eggplant. So maybe, late in the day, I'll do some of that as well.
Here's a photo of my rainy-evening dinner projects. A bowl of fresh guacamole, another of fresh salsa, and a squash pie. Invisible on the stove, potato pancakes frying and kale simmering in pheasant stock. My tomatoes and peppers and herbs and kale, Angela's squash, my father's potatoes and onions; the stock was from the pheasant I roasted a few weeks ago. I'm grateful for the communal harvest.