Where I Want to Be

The day creeps by as I wait for night to get here. The morning has seen torrential rains, with the continuous drumming of the drops on the roof lulling us into a hypnotic sleep. The sky outside so dark that we are confused as to whether it really is morning, although our trusty digital clock screams in neon green: 10:34 am. I'm silently thankful, though, that the rain is now, and not at 10:34 pm because then that would mean I would have to open the gates to our two close-to-a-hundred-pound dogs (who I secretly think sported feathers and a beak in another life) so they can join us upstairs, having the clackity-clack of their nails on our pergo wood floors provide the beat to the air purifier's purring and the rain's drumming. Right now, Baxter sits close to our feet as the rain is joined by thunder and lightening, his hind legs trembling. Buffy doesn't mind as much, although if Baxter gets started enough, she is right there following his example. Great. So, I'm sitting here, going through my pictures, and found the one place I'd love to be right now:

I can just see myself under that umbrella, basking in the sun's warm rays, taking in all that vitamin D (with protection of course) that we usually lack because we're stuck indoors between sterile walls. Next week, I will be there!

It's cleared up somewhat now; the clouds have parted and the soft breeze is making our bougainvillea and backyard trees dance to its rhythm. I see blue again, mingling with the puffs of cotton that decorate the sky. There's also light again, which means I can go back to saving on electricity and using good ol' mother nature.