gray days
Some days are gray days, even when it's sunny outside. Today is one of those days. I don't know what exactly makes it a gray day. Some combination of having a cold, being generally out of sorts, and cold stillness outside. I don't like gray days because they present two options. The first being climbing into bed and hiding out. The second is to chin up and carry on, pretending it's not a gray day.
Nothing feels comfortable and a looming sense of gloom fills the house on a gray day. The dogs seem to know it too; they're unusually subdued and follow me from room to room, plopping down on the floor with a sigh only to get up and move again.
A cup of tea tastes better than coffee on a gray day. Apple tea, with honey warms as much with its smell as its temperature. I hold it in my hand and let the heat soak into me, even though I'm not cold. I drink one cup, and then another. It fills the time on a day like this.
I'm not necessarily unhappy on a gray day; everyone needs one now and then. It's the paradox of a gray day, where I feel the urge, the need to simultaneously seal myself into a cave of fleece and covers while getting into my car and taking off on a road trip to Montana. It's wanting home and roaming, safety and reckless endangerment.
Today is a gray day.
Nothing feels comfortable and a looming sense of gloom fills the house on a gray day. The dogs seem to know it too; they're unusually subdued and follow me from room to room, plopping down on the floor with a sigh only to get up and move again.
A cup of tea tastes better than coffee on a gray day. Apple tea, with honey warms as much with its smell as its temperature. I hold it in my hand and let the heat soak into me, even though I'm not cold. I drink one cup, and then another. It fills the time on a day like this.
I'm not necessarily unhappy on a gray day; everyone needs one now and then. It's the paradox of a gray day, where I feel the urge, the need to simultaneously seal myself into a cave of fleece and covers while getting into my car and taking off on a road trip to Montana. It's wanting home and roaming, safety and reckless endangerment.
Today is a gray day.
Comments
The immature gulls are gray here, and they often disappear into a gray sky.
I find myself missing the constant commotion that was Fairbanks. While I am loving the challenge this place presents, pangs of nostalgia for my old life and friends--for Fairbanks--course through me daily.
Here: I have two friends. There: I had two friends within slapping distance at all times. Gray is lonesome.
I stream KUAC low-fi, as that's all my crummy Internet can support. I listen for familiar voices, PSAs, school board meetings.
Rambling when I should be grading. (gray-ding?) ((de-grading?))