lucksong

The door is standing wide open and it's pouring torrentially outside. A particularly loud crash of thunder sends our dog scrabbling across the tiles. I have an extra-big mug, one of Ian's (mainly distinguishable by the broken handle so characteristic of his mugs) full of thin, cool tea and my head is hurting a lot. Sitting at the piano, the open door is only twelve or so feet from me. It's not windy but the air coming in feels so much colder and fresher than it did earlier in the day, I feel as if the outside air is hitting me in gusts. I have one light on in the whole place, but it's not dark. It's dusk outside, not totally dark yet, and all the greens are looking vivid, neon-saturated from the rain.

I think about playing lord of the glitches online but find I have no real desire to do so at the moment. Nim has forgotten the thunder and sleeps on the floor two feet away from me, opening his eyes now and then to reassure himself that I'm still there. Headache aside, I am pretty content right now, and wish the storm could last longer, so that I could sleep to it and then wake up to hear it again before I go about my day tomorrow. I would like it to be the rule rather than the exception. And this unimportant blurb is what I choose to write. Lol.