Last night we got a dusting of snow. It started around 2. I went to bed. When I woke up this morning, I could hear the rain. I looked out the window and the dusting, now filled with rain holes, is slushy. It is supposed to rain all day.

I am still getting better. The coughing is pretty much gone. My voice, though, is still a bit hoarse. I have energy again. Last night I washed the upstairs bathroom floor. Today it is the downstairs. My house has been neglected. Dust is everywhere. At least I have no trash.

When I was a kid, the dusting would have been hopeful. Maybe it would snow all night so we’d have no school. I remember running to the window first thing in the morning and being disappointment.

I love rainy days. I didn’t love them so much when I was a kid as I always got wet walking to school. My classroom used to smell like wet wool. My shoes used to bubble. My socks got soaked. Coats dripped on the cloakroom floor. The puddles stayed all day.

I remember getting home from school on a rainy day. I’d be soaked. My mother would have me hang my coat in the cellar to drip dry. My shoes went on the mat, my school uniform in the closet. I usually put on my pajamas, the coziest clothes. I’d lie in bed and read by the bed lamp hanging on my headboard. I’d read until supper.

I find my house comforting in the rain. I can hear the drops falling all around me, but I’m warm and cozy and dry. The dark day is blunted by the lamp on the table. The rest of the house is dark. The dogs are asleep beside me. Nala is under the afghan. They are not lovers of rain.

The sky is a beautiful blue. The sun is bright. The air is still. It’s a pretty day. It is also a cold day at 33°. I am staying home. I am taking another day of rest.

I did the dump run yesterday. Just as I got into my car it started to rain. Of course, it did. Just as I got home, it stopped. Of course, it did.

I still have my cough, but it is an easy cough now. I do not fear death will ensue.

My dogs live the good life. They have a dog door so they can come and go at will. Nala also uses it to take her pilfered goods to the yard. I don’t pay much attention so I only catch her if she makes noise when her booty is too big for the door.

I bought some small potatoes and some a little bigger, two bags of potatoes. I was going to fry the potatoes with onion and ground beef. I put the packages in the sink, the safe spot. Later, I went to cook my dinner. The potatoes were gone, both bags. Nala had found my safe spot and carried the bags outside. I looked and saw her with one bag on the driveway. I walked outside, and she took off with the bag spilling potatoes as she ran. I saved ten of them; however, I figure she has some hidden. She comes in with a potato, plays with it as if it were a ball then eats it. She doesn’t mind the skin.

When I was a kid, I never noticed how regulated my life was. Every weekday was the same. I got up, ate breakfast, got dressed and walked to school. I waited for the bell, lined up in the schoolyard and walked into school, two by two, sort of a throwback to the ark. I hung up my coat and then sat down. The nuns took over from there. I did what I was told.