Sometime late last night I realized I was almost out of two of my life’s necessities: caffeine and toilet paper.
By late night the torrential rains of yesterday afternoon had come and gone, but a whole lot more rain was forecast for today, and the next several days.
And so I woke up really early this morning and immediately turned on the TV.
I have a favored local-weather channel, not prone for exaggerating weather conditions. The early-dawn TV screen greeted me with a Doppler-radar image depicting a thickly-bowed red band of rain, preceding the favored yellow-band that would be the welcome good soaking to this Texas drought.
The not-overly-excitable weatherman spoke his mind: the first front, the red band, was likely to bring dangerous road conditions and localized flooding. “Stay off the roads, when it hits, if at all possible.”
I looked at the location of the red band, out west in the Katy area, and guessed I had an hour or maybe a bit more, before the torrent hit my neck of the woods.
I rolled out of bed, donned glasses and street clothes, and headed to the grocery without so much as washing my face.
By 6:30 a.m. I was checking OUT of the grocery, with my most-needed supplies and a few extras. At the last minute I’d decided to treat myself to the purchase of a bottle of wine, thinking it would be a nice accompaniment to multiple days of rain.
To my embarrassment, the check-out lady told me that she could not sell me alcohol before 7:00 a.m. She took the bottle to later return to its shelf. I tried to convince myself that she wouldn’t judge me harshly—seems if alcohol were my addiction, I’d know when I could and couldn’t buy it.
Thankfully this checker had no issue with my purchasing a bag of chocolate. And believe me, rain or no rain; I’d have stayed until 7:00 a.m. if I couldn’t walk out with my caffeine and TP!
Just as I returned home, put away supplies, and sat down with my favored form of caffeine, the sky opened up and the red band of rain emptied a deluge over my stick house.
As I’ve shared before, I love rainy days—if I don’t have to drive somewhere. There is a reason that the old children’s book “It Chanced to Rain” is one of my all-time favorite reads. The sound of rain has been a part of my Gulf-Coastie life in the same way that seagulls have shared the treasured images of my days.
But the problem with rainy days is that I tend NOT to be productive. I just want to sit and listen; to sit and watch; to sit and wonder about the making of this day.
Some days I embrace my solitary lifestyle. I give thanks for the freedoms that come with this one life of mine. Some days I struggle with my solitary lifestyle. I wonder at the twists and turns and impacts that I never saw coming; that leave my voice mostly silent.
And more recently, I face some days with an excitement over my very-own RV arriving next month. And other days I wonder: What am I thinking to undertake such travels?
Today's rain continues and my typing is slow; but I know that I can sit and drink all the caffeine that I want. And whether ready or not, tomorrow will bring tomorrow’s wonderment and challenges. And ready or not, I should soon find myself RVing on a wonderfully rainy day.
And if my own history is all that shares my future, I most likely won’t sit inside the RV and listen to any daytime rain. I’ll don rain gear and binoculars, and wander on down a favored trail, giving thanks that it chanced to rain.