A Rainy Day

What’s that sound? Thunderous, but pleasing, almost calming. It’s rain! I’d almost forgotten what rain sounded like against a tin roof. How could I have forgotten one of my favorite childhood sounds?  

As much as I’d love to stay in bed, pull the covers over my head, and listen to the sound of the rain, my alarm had already blared, letting me know it was time to start this day. Downstairs, the coffeepot was sending the nutty aroma of freshly brewed coffee my way. Programmable coffeepots are such a wonderful invention! I should have indulged and bought one years ago.

Hot, steamy water eases every ache in my joints this morning. If I didn’t have work, I’d stand and let the water fall over my skin longer. No time for that. I need to hurry and get ready, so I can leave a little early for work. Traffic on a sunny day is bad enough. Rain makes people crazy.

The click of one button starts my favorite morning news program. Weather and traffic reports are a must when I need to drive to work in the mornings.

“Due to the potential for storms, city schools will be closed today.”

Glancing at the information scrolling across the bottom of the screen tells me that I heard correctly. The school system is closed today. A day off? In the middle of the week?

Sweats it is. And slippers. The fuzzy ones with the nice memory foam inside. Hair up in a messy bun. And coffee. Then what?

Down the stairs slowly, thinking of all the possibilities. First thing first, coffee.  Thankfully, my favorite mug is hanging on the hook where it belongs. I hate when I forget to wash it, and it’s not ready for me.

The creators of the Beverly Hillbillies called oil “black gold.” I think it’s coffee. Nothing gets my day started quite like the rich, dark goodness in a cup. Searching the refrigerator, I find the white raspberry mocha creamer. After all, today is a special occasion.

Breakfast. I need breakfast. Normally, I grab something from the teachers’ lounge or cafeteria.

Within minutes, bacon sizzles in the iron skillet. My mouth is already watering in anticipation. While the bacon cooks, I drop a piece of wheat bread into the toaster. Bacon has to be turned regularly to be nice and crispy like I like it.

Removing the skillet from the heat, I lower the heat on the burner. The bacon is irresistibly resting on a bed of white paper towels to drain the grease. A small piece of butter melts in the skillet. Cracking two eggs into the skillet, I’m careful not to break the yolks. I like my eggs over hard, but I don’t want the yolks broken. The secret is to start them off the heat and then cook them low and slow. Placing the skillet back on the heat, the characteristic sizzle is music to my ears.

The aroma in the kitchen makes it so hard to be patient while the eggs cook. Another cup of coffee is necessary now. White raspberry mocha creamer adds that little touch of luxurious sweetness.

The rain pounds against the roof and the windows of the house. Looking out the window, the driveway is barely visible through the sheets of water falling from the sky. Thunder claps loudly overhead. It isn’t an angry sound. Nature is excited at the moment, not angry.

Sitting in the breakfast nook, I cut into my eggs. Perfect! Perfectly over hard with an intact yolk. Binx will be happy. He loves when I share egg yolks with him. As if on cue, he begins purring as he rubs against my leg.

“You know you have to wait until I’m finished, silly cat.”

Binx is undeterred. At this rate, my light green sweatpants will be green with black flecks from the rubbing. Binx knows I wouldn’t have it any other way.

With breakfast over, Binx gets his treat in his dish along with his favorite canned food. Another clap of thunder followed by a huge flash of lightning startles me. The storm is getting closer. What is the old saying? Something about the number of seconds between the thunder and lightning will tell you how far away the storm is.

It doesn’t matter. Thunderstorms make the perfect weather for reading a good book. I’ve not had the chance to read a good mystery in quite a while. My to be read pile has gotten almost as tall as I am.

“Come on, Binx. Let’s go find a book and curl up on the couch.”

My bookshelves are the one thing in the house that are meticulously organized. All of my mystery novels are together on the same set of shelves. Then I have them together by author and finally organized by series—in order of publication, of course. I am a stickler for reading a series in order. Otherwise, you miss out on important character development and sometimes you miss plot twists. I also have my to be read books separate from my already read books.

There’s a cozy mystery series I’ve been itching to start, and now’s my chance. The good thing about cozies is they are usually quick reads if they’re well-written. This particular series is a new one by one of my favorite authors, so it should be just right for today.

Settling onto the couch with a cup of coffee beside me and the book in my hand, I can’t wait to get started with my day off. Another angry clap of thunder sends Binx diving under my leg for shelter.

“It’s okay, Buddy. It’s just thunder.”

I have a commanding view of my entire front yard from my perch on the couch. At the moment, though, I can’t see anything beyond my window. The rain is a solid sheet. Whistling outside lets me know the wind is blowing. I can only imagine the saplings near the fence line bending with the wind.

Another clap of thunder, and the rain gets louder. Lightning lights up the entire neighborhood as if someone had just switched on the switch by my front door. The storm is right on top of us. Binx meows in fear and climbs into my lap for reassurance. Absent-mindedly I rub his back, and he settles into position in my lap. I open my book.

“It was a dark, stormy night, and Lisa was afraid.”