November 24, 2001
Blame It On The Rain
So we were going to get up early this morning -- "early" being relative
on a Saturday, of course, especially on one of those extravagantly lazy
weekend mornings when we sleep until 6:30 or 7 a.m. -- and we were
going to shower and glug down a cup of coffee and hop into the
Subaru and head straight for Berkeley, where I had scheduled a 9 a.m.
appointment to get fitted for a new pair of glasses (to replace the
M.I.A. pair I've been bitching & moaning about for the past
week or so) ...
except that when we wake up, or rather when *I* wake up, somewhere
around 6:45 a.m. -- David apparently has been up since 4 a.m., dinking
around on the Internet in the next room while I slept -- all I can hear
outside our bedroom window is the sound of rain ...
torrents of rain, buckets of rain, OPEN FAUCETS of
rain, assaulting the windows and the walls and the recycling dumpsters
on the sidewalk outside our bedroom -- I can't hear it pattering on the
roof above me, because we have Upstairs Neighbor Doofus
sandwiched in between us and the roof of the building, and the only
thing we've heard from him this weekend is the
usual squeak-and-drag of his fudking broken closet door as he opens and
closes it relentlessly in the middle of the night:what has he GOT in
that closet of his, anyway?? MRS. Upstairs Neighbor
but the rain is nonetheless a cozy, comforting, familiar
sound, especially for this displaced Seattle girl, and it feels so
lovely and decadent laying in a warm comfortable bed on a Saturday
morning, still dark outside, listening to the storm outside my window,
listening to wet traffic on the street, listening to the wind shrieking
like a Hindi pop star, listening to our neighbors' windchimes clanking
and tinkling madly ...
and I know at that point that there is no prayer of us getting into the
Subaru and driving to Berkeley today -- that the only thing we'll
probably *accomplish* on this particular Saturday is a whole lot of
puttering around the apartment ... laundry, housecleaning, CD-burning,
Christmas-card-writing, maybe a trip to the supermarket later to pick
up lasagna ingredients (or bean soup ingredients, or beef stew
ingredients, or something we can cook in the oven or the crockpot so
the entire apartment fills up with good food smells all day long) ...
which means I'll have to rechedule the Lenscrafters appointment for next
weekend, without fail, since I can't stand viewing the world through a
thin layer of Vaseline all the time ...
but first I think I'm going to shout at David, who is still sitting in
front of the computer in the next room, and order him to come and crawl
under the comforter with me and snuggle for a while: two bodies
smooshed together under a mountain of blankets, listening to the rain,
listening to each other breathe, savoring the moment, glad to be alive,
glad to be together, glad it's Saturday.
I'll have to live without new glasses for another week. It's worth it.