While the title of this blog post may sound like a self-help book for middle-aged brain fatigue, it was actually the last weather forecast I heard before meandering outside this morning. Just like yesterday, it was gray and gloomy, but I was not about to complain … no, not me, after I whined incessantly about the snow, ice and brutal temps. So, I suited up in the interest of gleaning more steps.
Unlike today, our soggy Sunday was not a total washout, and I waited for my window of opportunity and headed out. I got a couple of miles walked, even though every step felt like my boot heels were squishing and sinking right into the grass at Memorial Park.
This morning, buoyed by this January thaw, I ventured into the mist, happily wearing walking shoes for the first time in almost six weeks. But, I hadn’t strayed far on my foray through the ‘hood when the first raindrops bounced off my nose – well, so much for that. I wheeled around and headed for home.
A car whizzed by and barely missed drenching me with a salty splash of water that languished in a pothole, and I heard the dregs of the snow melt gurgling through the sewer. Good riddance to that snow, and I’m hoping the third time is the charm with all the snow melting away … the last two times, we enjoyed balmy weather and the next day we had snow.
While walking home I heard a noise overhead and a passel of squirrels ran single file on the power line. No, I didn’t hear the clicking of their toenails, but they were chattering among themselves while traversing the cross street. Considering they are still sporting their Winter girth, they were nimble as they raced overhead, not giving a whit about the rain that was falling gently and splish-splashing in the pothole puddles that are everywhere.
As I neared the house, I saw a robin on the lawn – the first one this year for me. It is way too early for worms, or he would have been giving me the evil eye and a scowl as I cut across the lawn, perhaps trampling on his anticipated juicy breakfast.