Rain and the Joys of Being Inside

Pouring rain here.  Pouring.  It’s dumping like the city’s bought the five-buck carwash, a hundred-foot tall sign telling the metro area to “PULL FORWARD”.  As I’ve mentioned, rain is a blessing in this dry climate, and even when it sounds like BBs are being poured on the roof, I crave more.  I also appreciate having that roof above me.  I think weather is a ying/yang proposition.  It can’t truly be enjoyed unless you’re witnessing it from a place of refuge.  Heavy rain requires a dry outlook, and cold windy nights are best experienced under a foot-deep down comforter. 

Which brings me to the joys of sleep in cozy places.  I once was rocked to sleep in a small compartment on the train from Luxor to Cairo, whizzing by lush marshes bracketed by deadly expanses of swirling sand.  Sleeping on a small sailboat is equally alluring and restful, and I’ve been tucked tight into a bunk with the sound of waves slapping the hull, halyards tinging against a mast, ducks chattering on landing into our secluded cove. 

I’ve found in life that it’s good to never underestimate the joys of sleep and security while the weather runs wild outside. 

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