Wow, another day of rain and another wind advisory. Luckily it is fairly warm at 44° or I’d be moaning about snow. I took a leisurely morning. The laundry got as far as down here by the cellar door but hasn’t yet made it to the washer. I’ll put it on the list. Something about not liking Mondays has stayed in my psyche even though I no longer work.

All of my animals are sleeping. They seem to be afflicted with the same lack of ambition I have. A succession of rainy days has sapped my energy. I miss the sun. It isn’t warm this time of year, but it is bright. It lightens my mood. The gray skies, the waving branches and the rain are fine for a day or two but I’ve had enough. Poor Noah must have needed anti-depressants.

After my daily weather report, I found myself glumly staring out the window hoping for an inspiration. Nary a one popped into my head until I remembered being in the fourth grade staring out the window at the rain which then led me to remember being in the eighth grade where I also had a seat by the window. My eighth grade nun was so old she nodded off once in a while and noticed little that was going on in the class. My classmates and I took full advantage. What kids wouldn’t? Beside my desk was a bookcase below the window casing. I used to hide my transistor radio there, plug in the ear piece and listen to music. Once I got called on and had no idea what I was being asked. The nun caught me taking out the earpiece, decided I was deaf and spoke loudly when she repeated the question. That shelf was also where I kept snacks for eating during the day. Some days I’d leave for lunch with a friend and come back an hour or two late and tell her I was at the library or the rectory and she’d smile and tell me to be seated. She never noticed I always brought my lunch. Other days I’d leave early telling her I had an appointment or had to do school work at the town library. She’d let me go. She used to eat candy bars she’d hidden in her drawer. Her hand would cover her mouth for a bit, and after she’d removed it, the chewing started. Once she spit nuts on a paper I was showing her. She taught every subject to us, but the best class was music. She had a round metal pitch pipe and would blow it to give us the key then she’d start off singing. She had the worst voice which trembled when she sang. We all joined right with an exuberance bordering on laughter, but we were careful not to laugh right at her or have her see us. She knew anyway and used to say, “When you graduate, I’m going to write on the board in the largest letters, Thank God they are gone.” She said we were the devil’s spawn. Some days I think she was right.