It’s a rainy day here in the mountains of western North Carolina.  Not that I’m complaining.  After a winter with little to no snow, a spring that will be remembered for its April cold snap instead of  its April showers, and a summer of unbearably hot, dry weather, we definitely need it…but (you knew there was going to be a “but” here, didn’t you?), but the thing is, I hate rainy days.

Why?  Well, it has nothing to do with getting wet or anything like that, it has to do with the fact that my muse always seems to abandon me on rainy days.  She flies the coop of my brain, catches a flight to sunnier climes, and hides there until dryer weather returns to bless her home terrain.  All of which leaves me floundering in a sea of unwritten words and unfinished manuscripts.

My first line of defense in this case is usually to edit and/or polish one of those many unfinished manuscripts, but that’s dicey.  I usually find that whatever I edit ends up getting re-edited when I re-read it and cringe at what I wrote on a brainless rainy day.  Does that make sense?  I told you my muse was AWOL.

When I lived in Maine, there was the option of turning on the TV and watching a replay of a Red Sox game (there was almost always one playing on NESN) which I loved, especially if it was a game they won.  Can’t do that here, though there’s probably an Atlanta Braves game on somewhere, but I’m not that big a fan of the Braves.  I miss NESN!

I could do some research, but–and I hope you’ll pardon me–blech!  I hate research more than I hate rainy days! 

So, my options today are to do some housework or read.  It shouldn’t be hard to figure out which one I’ll choose.  I love to read.  My “to be read” pile is almost as tall as I am, and my “books to buy” list is as long as my arm.  Before I started writing, I would never have let myself fall so far behind with either my TBR pile or my BTB list.  But, since my fist book came out, I noticed a  drastic fall-off in my reading habits.  I just can’t seem to find the time to read anymore.  Proof of this lies in the fact that I’ve lived in North Carolina now for over ten months and I still don’t have a library card!  Sacrilege!  That’s the first time that’s happened since I learned to read when I was four years old.  Usually the first thing I do when we move is visit the public library and get a library card.  I even got one in Denver, and we only lived there for two months while my husband went through some training in the Air Force.

Hmmm…maybe I should try to find my rusty, unused umbrella, see if it still works, and take myself off to the library.

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