It is raining. A good old slow soaker kind of rain. The air is just chilly enough to need a light sweater. The air smells clean, scrubbed of its pollutants. Every once and a while, I get a little chill. I am thinking about making a cuppa. Some hot tea would be a pleasant treat on such a day.
I subbed in the fourth grade today. At this school, the fourth and fifth grade classes go to a different teacher for different subjects. The teacher called me at 7:15 this morning. I was still in bed, but I was on the road by 7:35. It was an easy assignment. I watched the beginning of The Waterhorse four times. I still have no idea how it ends, but I am very familiar with how it starts.
I am subbing in Montessori tomorrow and Friday. I love subbing in this class which is good because it will be the class I am a teaching assistant for next year.
I should be writing a research exercise right now. My summer class started this Monday. It is the History of the Christian Church I. I have a paper to write every week. I apparently am the only worried about it. Everyone I tell this to says I will have no trouble writing. If I think about it, they are right. I love to write.
I have been thinking about old friends this week. I miss them and long for the camaraderie and fellowship they brought. I have thought about contacting one, but I am too much of a chicken to call him. I am not sure how my call would be received, nor what I might find at the other end of the line.
It is raining. The gray skies weigh heavy on my soul. The poet within me is restless and stirring. I can feel the words filling up my mind and fighting to get out. But they are vague and formless. They are merely sensations, feelings, grievances. I am tired and bored. I would like to call a friend to go grab a cup of coffee or see a movie. It is raining. Thanks for reading.