One of the mysteries, and ongoing miseries, of life from the way I see things is why does it have to rain during the daylight when I want to do things? So full of myself am I and too stuffed to jump for the most part that the rain (actually for much of the day a drizzle bordering on a mist until late in the afternoon when it got kind stupid) on Monday was part of a day when I was working at my desk in my office inside a building and was nowhere near outdoors except to leave the car in the lot and walk into the building.
No matter-if I want to have a pity party for me and all those like me, why should I let facts get in the way of my opinion about how hard my life is. What would the point of that conversation be? I sometimes wonder. Jeepers, Wally, what's the matter with you is (not surprisingly) what’s the matter with me.
After the frigid and frozen winter we had, complete with snow the week before Easter instead of saying ‘at least it wasn’t the week before Memorial Day,’ I still have a sad heart (and a red behind) with anything other than sixty degree plus temperatures and blue skies (‘and green lights to you and yours!’) so I fear the choices I face, as the twilight years near, are to lower my expectations or my voice, especially when expressing disappointment.
Of course, there’s always the wit (and wisdom, often in equal amounts) as articulated by Roger Miller who offered, ‘Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” I always smile when I remember that ‘for I am a Rain Dog, too.’