When I woke up this morning and peeked out through the blinds, I wished I hadnít. It wasnít just raining. It was dreary and dark and pouring, just as youíd expect on the dreariest, darkest winter day. Itís not winter yet, though, is it? Itís barely halfway between summer and the end of autumn, and itís already looking like the depths of February.
Instead of going back to bed, as I should have done, I went straight to work. I left the blinds closed and went to work. It didnít help much, and by the time I got out the door to go to the post office it was raining even harder. I got wet going to my car, and soaked going back and forth from the car to the post office. By the time I got home I was thoroughly drenched. I should have gone back to bed then, I think.
But I couldnít, because my garage was flooding. I had to wade out there and take up the shovel, so that I could re-dig the trench that drains away from the garage. This was a poorly planned building, this garage, because itís on a downhill slant from the driveway. If I didnít keep that trench dug out in front of it, it would be in even worse shape than it is. Then I had to take the push broom and sweep the standing water out of the garage. By the time I got finished with all that, I was ready for a long, long nap.
The trouble is, the day was only half over. And the half that was over was the part thatís usually the best part. In the mornings I can sort of ease into my day. Thatís the biggest advantage of working at home, even better than not having to drive eighty miles a day, the way I used to. Nobody cares what part of the day I get my work done in, as long as I get it done.