So here's the current weather situation. No long walkies today, Dora, sorry. I still don't own rain pants, which is what I'd need to be out in this weather for any length of time. I know, I know, no bad weather only bad clothes, and I'm here to tell you: My clothes are mostly good, but I'm not prepared for monsoons.
Mind you, I like rain. A hard rain is almost as good as a snow day, as an excuse not to do things. I am glad I trotted my linen dress over to the seamstress yesterday, because if I hadn't, goodness knows when I would have gotten around to it.
Today's agenda, in no particular order:
*read poetry submissions
*work on Sun essays
*indoor exercise
*drink water
*answer emails
*look again at the trochaic pentameter poem I drafted yesterday
*maybe think about a new scene for my novel
*put dinner on --- I want to do a pork loin with peaches in the crockpot, so that the house will smell good all day. Also, everyone likes that. It's just literally: a pork loin, two or three cans of peaches in fruit juice, and whatever spices you like. I usually do garlic, onion, curry powder, chili powder, cinnamon, clove, ginger, and cayenne pepper for a little bite. Maybe a splash of lemon or lime juice to tenderize the meat further, in which case I'd also drizzle in a little honey to counteract the tartness. Anyway, this is a major hit every time I make it.
Man, just when I think it can't possibly rain any harder, it does.
Wearing today, for life in the house:
*Wool& Maggie dress (S/Long) in Aegean Teal
*Secondhand Aran Crafts zip hoodie cardigan
*Secondhand teal-stripe bamboo-cotton leggings
*Devolt wool socks bought in Norway last summer
*Xero Tari boots
Fairly unretouched Day 3 hair. I just cannot be bothered. I'll probably look back at this day and think, Wow, I just could not be bothered, could I? But some days are like that.
I'm up and dressed, though, and that's something. Actually, that's the good thing about writing this blog. It's a form of accountability, so I don't just fester away in my pajamas all day and feel depressed. Writing about my clothes, and having the discipline of taking a daily photo (or ten) of my clothes, means that I put them on --- which really means that I treat myself like a human being who is present in the world, and not a depressive cave-dweller, like an eyeless fish. If it seems unlikely that I would do that . . . well, suffice it to say that I have done that, and this blog has been part of my really girding myself not to do it. I remind myself: Once upon a time, those eyeless fish had eyes. And I really think that you use your humanity, or you start to lose it. I mean, not really. God gave it to you, and only God can take it away, and God won't, because that's not what God does. But you can lose your own connection to your human dignity.
Keeping that connection on a daily basis entails, at least for some of us, a certain amount of work. But for me it's the first step in being able to do any of the things I need to do: cook for my family, maintain my house, confront the day's writing work.
So here I am. I'm warm, I'm comfortable, I'm reasonably put together. I'm still drinking my coffee, but in just a bit I'll let the dog out --- in this weather she won't be tempted to jump the fence, because I don't think there's anything out there stupid enough to show itself in this rain, as an invitation to be chased. Right now she's sleeping in, warm and snug in her bed behind her curtains. Later I'll have to devise some indoor games for her, because she's the kind of dog who needs a game to play, or a job to do, or she just pesters me ceaselessly while I'm trying to work. "What are you doing to that dog?" my colleague always asks during editorial meetings --- often she's standing at my chair, just barking, barking, barking while we're trying to sort out the month's literary birthdays. You can see me, I say. You can see that I'm not doing anything to this dog. "Does she just not like for you to be paying attention to another person?" Yes, that's pretty much it. "Or is it just me?" Well, you know, could be. It could be completely personal. What do I know?
Anyway. I'm about to see the bottom of this cup of coffee. That feels like an omen of some sort.