The following was hand-written in a little spiral notebook because a thunderstorm prompted us to unplug all the computer equipment. I was going to scan the pages and post them as images, but decided to just type them here, verbatim, instead. Just pretend what you see is written with a gold metallic gel pen in my loverly handwriting. 😉
We had a good bit of steady rain today. The computers are unplugged as I write this, and I am stretched out on my side on the couch, hunkered down in its voluminous cushions, snuggled up with Buddy and Sarah at my feet. Emma’s sought out a more solitary siesta by herself on the loveseat across the room. That’s probably for the best since things are a little crowded.
The rains have ceased for the time being, but it is still overcast. It is nice to have the blinds drawn open; usually the afternoon sun forces us to shut the living room up, dark and cavelike, until nightfall.
Sarah, as she always is when the view of our yard and street is unobstructed, lies up against the back of the couch with her head resting on a pillow. She’s watching for squirrels, people, and other dire hazards.
Buddy is curled behind the crook of my knees, breathing softly in slumber. He’s not gotten to the point of snoring just yet. Besides the hum of the electric fan and the occasional hiss of cars passing by on wet pavement outside, it is really quiet here.
Why am I writing this? Because it’s all culminated in one of those sublime, peaceful moments in life. As I lay here reading my novel, I got one of those lovely feelings of well-being. When you get right down to it, stripping away all the petty complaints and whinings about wants, what more could I really need?
I have a comfortable, restful home, a husband I love dearly, and these surprisingly wise and wonderful goofballs with fur. It’s raining, the couch is comfortable, and my book is really good.
And I’ve learned that I am still able to write without the aid of a keyboard and mouse.