"I got distracted by the possibility of a potato..."

It’s a strange day here. Hot, raining, raining, raining. The air is so thick with rain that it’s hard to breathe. Even when it stopped pouring for a few hours earlier I could feel the moisture gathering in my lungs. It’s a relief to step inside, where it’s dry, and cool, and the air feels fresh (ish).

Have discovered that the best thing to do when I start feeling really, deeply mopey is to get myself up off the floor (quite literally: this has become my favorite curl-up-and-read/feel-sorry-for-myself spot…a patch of rug near the wall where I’ve set up a few blankets), do some dishes, and cook myself some food. It’s a struggle, but it helps. I very nearly crawled straight upstairs to bed at about 8 PM, but something in me said: no, that’s not going to help, and you know, it wouldn’t have. Soup and asparagus, however, and all my spoons and forks drying in the rack, have cheered me greatly.

I love hearing the rain beating down outside. Especially when I can sit and read with a cup of tea. Which I shall be making forthwith.