I can’t seem to recover from the upper respiratory thing I got a few weeks ago. The nasty symptoms are gone but I am exhausted all the time. I could just crawl into bed and do nothing all day which is not like me at all. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I should be up to my armpits in chopping and dicing right now but I’m just not feeling it.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen the sun for days. Jacob meets the bus each morning in the pitch black of night thanks to daylight savings time. I’ve been packing Al’s lunch and drinking my first cup of coffee in the gloom of “cloudy with a chance of showers” for days. At least when it’s raining, I get the soothing clatter of drops against the window pane. Today, it’s just perpetual dusk and my brain can’t seem to get past it.
I should be thankful for the shadows in my house. They mask the dust and the gloomy windows hide nose and finger prints. I like the color gray but not when it’s the only color to see. I feel like a person in the movie Pleasantville before someone takes a step past the city limits sign: trapped, stuck, hollow and uninspired.
I worry my chickens will get jungle rot. I put down a fresh bale of straw on Monday and it’s already mucky from the full day of rain we got yesterday. The grain they didn’t eat right away turns to mush and I can’t stand the yeasty smell when I dump it out to refresh.
Accuweather.com says tomorrow will be mostly clear. It shows a picture of a big bright cartoon sun with a wispy little cloud covering the lower left quadrant. Thanksgiving day might see the sun. It will be different this year. Traditions have been changing over the past few years. Kids grow up and some move away, marriages end and grandparents grow older. We are all spread out and have to choose what to do with this one special day.
Tomorrow, I will get to see the sun. And as I count my blessings in its bright light, I might notice a fingerprint I missed on the glass and that wispy cloud might make an appearance or two, but there will be family around and that might be just what the doctor ordered.