OK, I'm ready for it to stop raining now.
I don't mind a sprinkle now and then, a good thunderstorm to wash out the cobwebs, even two or three rainy days in a row. It's been going for a month now, raining almost every day, with a few scattered sun showers in between, just when it became unbearable.
Snow never bothered me. I can take snow for months on end, and did, even in Valdez where we had thirty feet of the stuff! Fifty, sixty below zero, snow over the top of the wood shed, ground blizzards, riding my bike on snow machine trails... no problem. Bring it on! But rain, now, that's something else.
A week of rain every day is like having to listen to the Oval One recite his lines day after day, reading the cue cards carefully prepared by his evil Christian, Neocon handlers. The steady drip, drip, drip of incessant, carefully crafted, aw-shucks idiocy stultifies the soul, if we had any to begin with, which we don't. It's bad enough that they're evil and in control; acting stupid about it all just grinds salt into the wound.
To know that they're all going to die and they can't take their money, fame and power with them, doesn't help much. I'm going to die too, all too soon and, as far as I know, I can't gloat from the grave. Gives me a chuckle now and then, though, while I alive, mostly.
This concentration on physical acquisitiveness is a puzzlement. I never caught the bug myself, never had much, wanted even less. I was happiest in my teepee on the Gros Ventre, on horseback in the Absaroka, in a qayaq up Silver Bay. Never lusted after power, either. So I have a hard time understanding the motivation behind all this.. this... busyness.
Who could want more than a knock-you-in-the-eyeball sunset, or bright blue sky on a sunny day, fresh air to fill the lungs, fresh water to stave off thirst, a bite to eat, a glass of wine.
Now if it would just stop raining...