It’s been raining for several days now. I’ve learned to take pleasure in the puddles’ placid reflections during the rain breaks.
I stayed in my pajamas today until 3pm (can you tell it’s my day off?) and then put on yoga pants and a t-shirt. Honestly, there is very little difference between those two outfits. I often wear yoga pants, masquerading as dress pants, as my work attire and Sunday morning attire but I try to dress them up with a nicer top and a sweater. Lately I’ve been coming home and changing directly into “lounge wear” just to feel like I’m done for the day. It works so well that I’ve gotten very little done around the house. Instead, I check my e-mail messages and surf facebook for mindless entertainment and bits of news from friends.
Today’s to-do list (written during a sleepless 2am pacing of the house) is partially completed. I’ve called to get my assignment for Saturday, handing out cookies and coffee at a rest stop; I’ve made the first batch of cookies to take to this Boy Scout fundraiser. But mostly I’ve been sipping tea and reading a library book (The Paying Guests)… and surfing crackbook on the side.
One of the things on my to-do list was to buy myself a ticket to see Rush in concert this summer. I pulled up the website to find that most of the good seats were already sold while I was sleeping. Rush is one of my favorite bands and I really did want to see them, but at what cost? The prices for the tickets was shocking to me (decent seats were $151 before tax and other fees); the 6-hour drive to get there wasn’t too off-putting but the return trip home the next day and going directly to work was making me shudder. I hemmed and hawed while the few remaining seats of interest sold. In truth, I’d made my decision to not go but wanted to see how disappointed it made me to lose the chance. My dh told me to spend the money on something else to make me happy. I can only hope that Rush puts out a concert DVD since this tour is supposed to cover 40 years of band history and may be their final tour.
The volunteer maintenance crew at work managed to find a leak before this latest round of wet days. It wasn’t the roof per se… it was a weakened place where an old roof met a newer roof at a slant, dripping down between brick walls. (Part of the church was built in 1917, part of it was built in 1926, and part of it was built in 1956, so it’s not such a weird problem as it might seem.) I always thought that little bathroom smelled mildewy… turns out I was right! The back wall of the women’s restroom in question is now stripped to the studs. Before the rains began this week, some old gutterwork was slanted into a large bucket. I checked it on Thursday and it was 5/8 filled, so I had someone empty it before leaving.* SuperDad went back an hour later because it was raining pretty hard and sure enough, the bucket was nearly half-filled again. He added to the draining system and had it empty directly into the sink instead of a bucket. I’m glad these guys are on top of the situation — one which involved mud and climbing up between walls — I’d be wringing my hands in despair. At some point in the very near future, hard work and ingenuity won’t be enough and we’ll have to rub money on the problem. If only there was more money for rubbing…
*See what I did there? I avoided splashing my nice yoga pants with nasty leaky-roof rain water by getting someone else to empty a bucket. Not my proudest feminist moment, but my pants stayed clean and dry.
SuperDad spent the afternoon waxing his skis for a nordic race upon the mountain this weekend, a race that he looks forward to much of the year. It’s raining up there, too, and I can’t say anything to make it better. My comment about waterskis earned a glowering scowl. Obviously, humor is not helpful in this matter. He’s currently taking out his frustrations on raw vegetables: chopping and grating.
Tonight there were pretty pink and purple clouds to the west — the first color I’ve seen in what feels like ages. Between the warm winter rain, the wind chimes singing in the breeze, and something brighter in the sky than varying shades of gray, it feels like spring is on its way.
Spokalulu 