It is pouring.
It’s pouring down rain on a Monday and I work for the United States Post Office, whose accepted motto is something about “rain..or sleet…or shine…”.
It’s not something to complain about, really, but I do anyway. I dislike driving the mail around in the rain….no matter how good my thrift store Gore-tex is.
There’s something about having to keep everyone’s mail dry that puts a real damper on my day.
And here’s Elvis with the spin on the situation…”I believe for every drop of rain that falls…a flower grows..”
Dang you, Elvis. I knew that….it doesn’t stop me from getting really wet that some flower somewhere is celebrating Spring and is growing like a weed.
Your little song doesn’t help me get over hating the sound of the deluge on my metal roof.
The “rub” of it all is that we had some monumentally great weather while I was off for a rare 3 days.
It was great…perfect, beautiful. It was nice enough that we couldn’t take it for granted. It was a blessing that demanded observation…it was freaking great.
I loved that it was really nice for my birthday.
I couldn’t get over how nice it was.
And here I am, whining about the weather as if the beautiful days never happened.
This rain isn’t even a setback. (I almost said something like, “…it’s only a temporary setback” but that wasn’t true…so I didn’t.)
It’s just part of the ebb and flow of walking around on this big green and blue ball that I live on.
Sometimes it rains…sometimes it shines.
And…apparently…I’m supposed to drive around with a whole bunch of sponges made out of paper no matter what the weather is doing.
Truth be told, though…this song captures my mood a little bit better than the Elvis one.