Wind tearing leaves from the trees and breaking small branches, sneaking cold fingers in any gap in window or door. Rain pouring down like somebody left the spigot open full wide, beating on the metal barn roof like thunder. I could barely hear my cell phone when Joel called to tell me the power had gone out. Oh goody.
Soaked to the knees and squelching in wet shoes, cold water dripping down my neck, I slogged my way back to a dark house. Coat, hat, socks, shirt and bibbies laid out in front of the wood stove, I changed into dry sweats and tried to decide what to do with the rest of the day. While there was still light outside (albeit dim), the choice was easy. I picked up a book; what a surprise! My son Pete introduced me to Christopher Moore, whose writing is witty, irreverent, intelligent, with a perverse sense of humor. (Actually, that sounds a lot like Pete.) Moore's books are impossible for me to read without laughing out loud or wishing someone were near so I could share a particularly funny passage. The power came back after maybe three hours, but by that time I was immersed in the story. Turning on a lamp just made reading easier.
This morning is just a rerun of yesterday, hopefully without a power outage. I really must get something productive accomplished today.