The mud is getting me down, even more than the rain. That’s because even when it isn’t raining, I still have to slog through the mud to get anywhere. As I was hauling groceries in from my car this afternoon (three trips), I got more and more depressed about it. It wasn’t even raining at the time, which is kind of miraculous, since it rained so hard most of the day. There was even a long, loud peal of thunder that came out of nowhere. It wasn’t in any forecast I heard, but there it was.

In fact, I was so drained after slogging through the mud that I had a hard time getting to work. Usually when I get back from my errands (and after I put my groceries away), I’m ready to go, but today for some reason every bone in my body felt as if it weighed double. I had to sit in the recliner with my feet up for half an hour before I could tackle my first spread sheet of the day. The way things are going, it will be many, many days before the rains stop and the mud can start drying up. I really hate this time of year.

Even so, I’d rather live here, mud and all, than somewhere colder. I see the snow falling in the Sierras, and I think, “Good, we’re going to get some nice spring runoff.” And then I think, “Good, I’m not stuck in the middle of that.”