Damp

In a deep drugged sleep when the front rippled through, missing the thunder and lightening. Both of us woke to Moby's frantic mews, so unusual both of us leapt from dreams to rescue. But nothing seemed to be wrong, he wandered around, flopped down to be petted. No idea what time. D put on the alarm for himself. When it chimed at 0600, my work wake up, it interrupted a dream of an unwanted party. I reset the time, opened a few windows to the cool, damp air, and crawled back in. Soothed by fresh air, I sank deep. Vaguely aware of D kissing me before leaving for work. Emerged to the blessings of a bright grey wet day a couple of hours later.

No drama with this weather, more of a welcome wet blanket over a smoldering fire.


ND, who follows these things more closely than I do, says we likely do have swine flu, since that's the only strain making the rounds. Of course, he thinks it should be called the Swahili Death flu. Works for me.