Pissing from the Heavens

It’s pissing it down this morning. The sky is gray and sad, but I’m not bothered. I headed down to the library with my brolly up, listening to my guilty pleasure of late.
The bottom six inches of my jeans are soaked and the water is coming in the bottom of my silver sequined shoes. It’s long past time for the bin but I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe once I’ve got a shiny new pair of green ones it won’t seem so bad.

The library is shut. September weekend. bugger. The supermarket is fairly bare. Bare, at least of the salad I came in search of. I walk up the street thinking I’d be able to cut up to the house from back there. Blocked in. bugger.

I should be mad. Six months ago I’d have been purely irate by now. I’d have been so miserable that my toes were swimming and I was stuck outside until I could force myself up that hill and get out of these clothes. But I’m not.

I don’t even put the brolly up, because I sort of like the feeling, in a way. Or at least I’ve resigned to the swimming pool in my feet and the ringing jeans sticking to me. I’ve decided just not worry about it, because it doesn’t really matter after all. Just be in it and feel the feeling and get home when I get home and that’s it.

It’s that boy. I am so lucky that I re-met him in the moment that I did, because I needed that constantly zen attitude. I needed to learn that there’s no point in being wound up. And I’m still learning but I’m getting there because, in his own way he never resists a moment to teach me about the Tao of Pooh and tell me “That’s just the way it goes sometimes.” He’s right and it doesn’t bother me to admit it.

So, when I get up to the door I walk inside and put down my bags. I take off my shoes and wipe my bare feet on the mat. I take off my coat and hang it. I take off my jeans and hang them over the heater.  I carry my stuff upstairs, and put it all away. Then I boil the kettle.

I’ll just be contented to be sloshing about in the rain.

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”
“What’s for breakfast? said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”
“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully.
“It’s the same thing,” he said.

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