I walked Ren this morning in the kind of rain I call the creeping drench, which is that slightly-too-thick fog that is light enough that it doesn’t fully alarm one with the pitter-patter of dots on the head, but is wet enough to worm its way quickly into even the deepest innermost layers of thermal clothing. The creeping drench is also light enough to sneak under umbrellas. It’s a rain infamous in causing p-coats and other pure wool to gain pounds of water weight quickly.
Ren and I are princesses. The metaphoric peas of discomfort are everywhere underbed and underfoot and drive us nuts. Ren has trouble peeing outside if it is too wet, and while I’m not trying to pee outside (and thus can tolerate when things are wet, just not when its raining).
But Ren and I can agree that we enjoy our creature comforts. In fact, I think the whole house is unified on that front.
Yesterday I went to San Francisco, and while it was still the long journey, compared to my days fretting over the new trump era it was comparably mellow. My sweetheart noted what a relief it was when my ethernet failed and I wasn’t able to put as much energy into trying to safe the world. Indeed, the process feels like I’m boarding up my windows for the coming storm / zombie invasion.
So today I need to not write about Trump or about related circumstances, and right now it’s hard to write about anything that’s not that.