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Rain has a tendency to make everything much more of a task. All day, relentless buckets saturated good old New England. I once had an English teacher who was from Texas. She was obnoxious. Because she had a doctorate in spelling, she assumed that she could grant herself perpetual self-righteousness. In any case, during one of her daily ramblings, she mentioned that when she moved to New York, she couldn't believe how much people talked about the weather. Then, she went on to say that once she lived there, she understood. I suppose she was right about that. The weather tends to be absolutely miserable once summer dies down. And of course, that proves true right now as well, as I sit looking out my second story window listening to the rain splash on the few remaining leaves on the trees. It's times like these I miss the summer, the sunlight until 9 PM, and the utter carelessness of the season as a whole.

Instead, we get Thanksgiving and Christmas etc. to look forward to. Especially now that I don't get to see my family much anymore, it should be nice to be surrounded by the old wholesome feeling associated with "home for the holidays." Speaking of which, I'm venturing home this weekend for my grandparents' 60th Anniversary. Can you imagine? Sixty years? That's a lifetime and a half of wholesomeness if you ask me.

It's half past six, which, in my world is essentially dinner time. I suppose I should dig out the rain boots, the umbrella, and the rain coat. Rain is just another challenge to accept and overcome; some of us are good at both. Bon Soir.


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The following comments are for "Rainy days and...Wednesdays?"
by Peachalicious





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