It rained today, it is supposed to rain tomorrow, and then again on the weekend.
It is not a deluge, nor a relentlessly onslaught. It is merely a silent steady drizzle. It is the kind of rain that lulls you into a dreamy trance while you stare out of the window. Two worlds, one on each side of a pane of glass frosted with the condensation of your slow steady breath.
My inner photographer calls out. Grab a camera, shoot a photo. My inner romantic calls out. Grab a blanket. Light a fire.
I hope it rains tomorrow.