My socks are wet. They’ve been wet all day. Because it’s been raining all day here in the East, ever since I took Millie out for her morning walk and came back soaked.
Millie doesn’t mind the dreary weather and she enjoys getting dried off. We usually end up rolling on the floor wrestling over the towel. So now I am wet and covered in dog hair. In fact my office here at Guideposts probably smells faintly of damp Golden Retriever.
Not that there are many people around today to object. Amy, Rick and Colleen are still in Port Orchard, Washington, wrapping up our biannual Guideposts Writers Workshop. Last night Debbie Macomber, our sponsor, hosted a dinner and gave a talk, which was the highlight of the week. I can believe it. Debbie is very, very funny in addition to being a wonderful writer, and I wish I could have been there.
Celeste McCauley is in California interviewing our January cover, Kristi Yamaguchi. Audrey is helping her father get situated in a nursing home, and Andrea is awaiting the delivery of a new couch at her apartment.
That leaves me with a skeleton crew of editors, most of whom are buried in their work trying to get caught up before the weekend, which is predicted to be beautiful.
Today, not so much.
I guess you could say I have the blues, the wet socks blues. There’s not much you can do about them, I’m told. They just pass, hopefully.
A few moments ago while I was ruing my gloomy mood, a friend shot me a link to an article about the perils faced by early humans, including being eaten by tigers, snakes and, I kid you not, giant predatory kangaroos. Our ancestors didn’t even make it on average to half our current lifespan; they endured the elements in primitive shelters and frequently froze to death.
And I’m complaining about the rain from my nice dry office? The closest I ever get to a carnivorous kangaroo is a big wet Golden who is a danger to no one unless you happen to be a towel. It is hard to imagine dying of cold in a modern city or being unable to find refuge in fierce weather. Yet these were once common dangers, in addition to the monster marsupials.
So once again I am reminded to be grateful in all things, to give thanks for even the dank dreary weather, because gratitude is the greatest refuge from negativity, to the wet socks blues.
Wet socks, damp dogs, absent colleagues and friends. I am grateful for these things because they remind me of how good I really have it.
