Rain

Where I live it seems like it's always raining. When the sun comes out, it's a momentary lull between cloud and precipitation. This means that on days like today, a day of wet perched between a week of more on either end, there's nothing to do but curl up with a good book while the soup pot boils in the background. The good book should probably be one that I'm writing. It's an insulated day, the kind of day when my characters whisper assiduously. It's a day when hisses and thumps work their way onto the page in a variety of scenes. My curiosity is piqued. Anything could happen.