What makes it invoke one feeling in October and another in June?
It’s raining once again and the street smells of October. The streetlamp near the front door paints the neighbour’s tree orange, and the concrete an industrial fizzle. In my left ear I can hear rain against the back door and windows; it sounds as if there are goblins, only I can’t tell if they’re trying to break in by detonating Pop-Rocks or barbecuing tiny bubblewrap that drips with wet, tummy-rumbling fat.
It doesn’t rain here like it rains in Canada. At home there is rain that rushes in with the wind in clusters and sheets, repeatedly breaking upon your raincoat like a shore. There are drizzles and spitting and hail and drenchings. Here it rains wet, a globular, running nose sort of sound. It rains like crinkled plastic sheets, instead of the roaring of folding tarps. It rains like nursery rhyme rain, and when it isn’t raining it sprays, as if you are standing in the wake of a waterfall. When it rains at home I think about weather. When it rains here I think about wet, and soggy logs, and Paddington Bear’s yellow jacket.
I like to listen to the rain sometimes when I work. This is a great site for that, although after an hour you begin to hear the repetition and you have to turn it off. But it’s calming. It sounds like rain should sound, a higher pitched creature, as if landing on fields of grain, or on glass.
Today is a day that should ring alarm bells for me. I feel melancholy, in case that isn’t obvious. I feel exhausted, without having done a thing. I perk up to eat, but I’m not really hungry, just looking for a distraction. I’m staying up later and sleeping in later. I didn’t shower. I feel gross. My mouth tastes like buttermilk.
These are all Signs. Things could be going Downhill. Probably another sign is that I don’t really care. Bugger all.
Do I shower before bed to try to feel better? But then I won’t have a shower in the morning and that will make me lethargic tomorrow. And goodness forbid I have two showers in less than 12 hours time.
I don’t feel interested in things. I can’t find anything that even distracts me in a cheerful way. It’s all kind of boring.
Oh hell, this is really irritating. Now I have to Bother again to pick myself up. And now I’m whining. And so officially I might be lapsing into a bit of depression right now.
Would you believe I didn’t notice until I sat down to write? I’d best go sort this and have a cold glass of water.