It's a lovely, rainy Saturday morning. I went for a walk in the drizzle, had a leisurely stretch while watching an episode of My So Called Life on the DVDs my friend loaned me. Then I went out for donuts, came back and had a hot shower, and now I'm drinking homemade milk coffee, listening to Michael Feldman on NPR, and eating Shipley's. (Krispy Kreme is too crowded Saturdays, and I kind of OD'd on my birthday; I also like to spread my business around.) The windows are open and wind is jangling my chimes on the balcony.
Is there a climate event going on this year, El Nino or something? It was a mild winter, warm even. It's been an unusually cool, wet June, and here it is July and still 65 degrees and raining. My basil is failing to thrive, and the rosemary aren't thrilled, but the mint and green beans love it. I wish I had a cistern to store all this water for the inevitable drought that is August and most of the fall.
I feel very relaxed. I don't know why I'm not more worried about my thesis, which I've scheduled myself to start working on in an hour. Maybe I panicked so much last week and the week before that the stress sent me over the edge, and now I'm sabotaging myself.
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