Rainy days always slow me down and tuck me in, seducing me to perform unnecessary housekeeping chores unimaginable in bright sun. When my ancient, duct-taped, binder of recipes tumbled off the top of the fridge in a splat of disorganization, I remanded it to the top of the clothes dryer. Now, a few drops of rain have induced guilt and curiosity. As Japanese poet Ryokan wrote:
Too lazy to be ambitious,I let the world take care of itself.Ten days worth of rice in my bag;a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.Why chatter about disillusionment and enlightenment:Listening to the rain on my roof,I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.