I like writing from home. I like writing from home whole heaps more than I like writing at work. I feel more creative there, even if it doesn’t show through what I’m writing. I dunno. It’s just . . . nicer.
But sometimes writing is like an itch and I have to scratch it. And lately unless I write at work, nothing’s written at all. And I think I’d rather deal with the constraints and worries and blah-ness of writing at work over the option of not posting at all.
I think some of you agree. I mean, I think so. It’s hard to know for sure. 🙂
I was going to mow the lawn when I got home from work today. I was actually looking forward to it. Justin mowed the lawn . . . two weeks ago? One week ago? It was the Monday after going to visit Mom and Dad, so whenever that was. Can’t get dates to work right now.
Anyway, he’d actually never mowed before, which amazed me. He did great! But I wanted to mow the lawn this time because I actually do enjoy it with my reel mower. And I haven’t mowed a lawn since early 2006. I just went to look at the weather forecast, though, to see how hot it would be this afternoon.
For all of you living in more northern climes and enjoying your 70 degree weather, we’re having 82% humidity in heat that feels like the mid-90s. And the best bit of all? The 10-day forecast says it’s going to thunderstorm for the next 10 days straight.
I don’t think I’m going to mow the lawn today.
Also, I really think I need to get a good pair of wellies.
I came to work last Friday morning through a tremendous rainstorm. Fay was still making herself be felt, and I didn’t plan ahead for that. I had my little, single-person polka-dot umbrella. I had to park in the very back of the parking lot and walk from the lot to my desk, a trek that generally takes me about 10 minutes. (I miss those days when I parked right outside my building and I’m so jealous of Justin’s short 10-foot walk.)
By the time I got to my desk, I was drenched from mid-thigh down. My pants, socks, and shoes were completely soaked through. So I sat at my desk my with little space heater aimed at my pants until they were dry and then aimed it at my socks, which I hung off the side of my trash can, with my shoes resting in between. They were all dry by the end of my 4-hour shift, but only just barely.
Hip-waders. That’s what I should get. That would do the trick for sure!