Rain, Caffeine and TP

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.