The weekend that began with such promise has taken a turn for the worse and I am not speaking of the rain. I like the rain. Well, not when we have it on days off from school or if it lasts for days on end. But, in general, I am fond of the rain. Rain makes lazy people, moi, feel better about themselves because on rainy days every one is lazy and we, I, don't stick out like a big ole sore thumb.
And who doesn't love a thunderstorm? Bill Hall, a former local weatherman, once said in an interview that it's gotten to where "you can't even enjoy a good thunderstorm anymore." He was speaking of all the latest advances in meteorology. Of course, those advances do, thankfully, save lives when it comes to reporting tornadic activity but sometimes I think weathermen get carried away a bit and just like to see themselves on t.v. and so they interrupt my time with some Desperate Housewives to tell the entire broadcasting area that at 3:43 large clouds will pass over Chipmunk Road, followed at 3:47 over Sugar Hollow Lane and 3:51 above the Rattlesnake Ridge community and while telling you this they show computer images of just how tall these clouds are in an effort to outdo the other local news stations and it just gets to be TMI - too much information! Did I happen to mention I also love a good run-on sentence?
So now you know that the rain and impending thunderstorm are not the reason for my gloomy state of depression. Yes, folks. I know it's hard to imagine but I, too, can get down in the dumps. Many things can cause this kind of funk. Today it is the missing checkbook.
The last time I used it was on Thursday evening registering Ren for the pageant. I distinctly remember writing it, handing it to the woman, and then stubbing it. I think I remember putting it back in my purse but, since it is obviously not there now, this memory may be imagined.
John brought its absence to my attention today. I hate it when I do something that opens the door for a good reprimand by him. I pride myself on always being right. I may allow him to hold onto the notion that he is smarter - he is older- but I am always right. I would honest-to-goodness rather have hot pokers plunged into my gut than admit I made a mistake. I am in a state of almost surrealism that maybe I have slipped up here.
Well, I'm 40 now. I guess I've got to make a mistake at some point in my life.
Postscript @ 7:37 p.m. - wondering what the chances are of one being struck by lightning while on a plugged in laptop. It's gotten really dark and windy in the last little bit.