Ashley and I had a lot going on this weekend. We shopped around for the various materials we’ll need to make our invitations, we attended not one but two graduation parties, we went out to dinner with her parents, and we spent about two hours having our engagement pictures done by the best photographer ever.
And while it was all good fun, it left me with little time to just sit and chill over the weekend. This has become increasingly necessary as exhaustion – from either the fibromyalgia or the Cymbalta I’m taking to deal with the fibromyalgia – becomes a larger factor in my life.
So when my alarm went off this morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I hit snooze once and really really wanted to hit it baby one more time. I forced myself out of bed and, as I started making my coffee, heard the rumble of thunder in the not-too-distant distance.
My thoughts travelled right back to the bed. Because nothing is better than lying in bed and listening to a storm, letting it rain and rain while you fall slowly to sleep…waking later only to remain in bed with a good book.
Oh man. I wanted so badly to climb back under the comforter.
When it started to rain, I could hear it even over the noise of the shower. It was narcotizing, like a soft-noise lullaby, so I kept the shower short in an effort to stay awake. Even after I got to work, coffee in hand, I walked into a large atrium type area and the reverberations of the precipitation almost knocked me out cold, the way gentle, steady waves on the beach will steal you away. I could have sat down right there and fallen asleep happily.
Well, right up until someone found me sleeping.
And now it’s afternoon and my time is my own again and…the sun is out. I am disappointed. I was strongly hoping for a late storm, hoping to crawl back into bed, even all these hours later. Open my book and listen to the sound of the falling rain.
It is not meant to be. Not today, anyway. Stupid sun.