Come on baby, light the fire

Clouds draped like shawls over the mountains and lakes are beautiful and serene. In Chinese art!

Otherwise, in the Pacific Northwest, it's enough to drive you mad!

Gray gray gray. Rain rain rain. Overcast overcast overcast. For months on end. Being a local weatherman's gotta be the easiest job in the world.

Come March, the weather turns fickle. Bursts of sunshine are too soon replaced by  familiar cloud cover, once again raining on our optimistic parade that Mr. Sol's here to stay.


Yesterday it seemed that spring might finally actually really be here. It was push-pull for a while. Eventually the sun prevailed and remained out. And for more than 20 minutes. We all rejoiced in the warmth and asked, "where the hell've you been?!" Least those were my words; others might've phrased it differently.

This morning? We're back in a Chinese painting. And the weathermen predict rain all weekend. Duh.

I hit the hardware stores yesterday for full-spectrum light bulbs. Because if I don't start soakin' up some natural light, I'm gonna set a precedent case for some sleazy lawyer (just open a phone book and point) who wins a homicide case on light deprivation.

You'd think in an area where it's gray and overcast at least six months a year that the shelves would be loaded with such bulbs. Wrong. Not a damn one!

Well I'm off to work. In, what else, the rain.

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