We’re halfway through week 12 of my sickness. (Hasn’t it even been longer?) Other than doing an actual test for it, my doctors are convinced I had whooping cough. The worst is over, but I’m still on a couple medications to help my breathing and lung strength. Another thing to help: 30-minute walks. I prescribed them to myself, and I’ve been pretty successful with them this week. Today’s turned into more like 50, because the first day of rain brought such a new way of looking at things.
The dry weather turning cool has been good for giving the leaf colors plenty of time to process. But today they started their decomposition on my sidewalks, gilded with wetness. Mounds of them were in the street and people’s carefully tended summer lawns were covered in them.
I saw a man emptying large pots of some shrubby flowering plants. One day of rain in Portland is usually not enough to throw in the towel on your plants. But since it’s nearly mid-October, we know the jig is up — the rain has come, and it’s probably not going anywhere till June.
So, the rain — it’ll stay. And with it the darkness in the morning that I haven’t noticed till now that the sun is covered up with grey. Darker mornings and it will be even harder to get up, already with my post-hydrocodone coma and cozy bed daze and husband already up and showered. I’ve been easy on myself with sleep the last few months. And maybe that shouldn’t change just yet. (Except on days like today, when I worked late on a Friday because of the late start I gave myself. Oh, and probably because of the 50-minute walk I took in the rain.)