Stormy Weather

It's now been raining here in New York for roughly three months. And I, for one, am getting sick of it.

Hey, I'm not above the occasional rainy day, and I'm well aware of that April-showers=May-flowers thing. But April showers aren't supposed to start in March and run through to Junem and going by that equation, we're gonna have so many flowers this summer that they'll overrun cities and evolve into a new form of life.

I'm a sun person, see. I need sun. Yes, I know every other living thing on this planet needs sun, but really, I NEED it. These grey wet days affect me physically, psychically, metaphysically, you name it, and I get enough of 'em in a row, and I just get all screwed up. Unproductive. Unmotivated. Useless.

So when I woke up at eight-thirty this morning to the sound of dripping water, I figured, great, bring on another useless day, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I realized the dripping sound was a bit too close for comfort. And upon getting up to check it out, I discovered that Mr. Weather, having tired of wreaking havok on my psyche, had decided to kick it up a notch and invade my home as well. My ceiling was leaking. With gusto.

Now I'm writing on my kitchen table with my laptop, rather than at my desk with my desktop, since my desk was epicenter of The Leak. Luckily, I pulled my Quicksilver out of there before it got lost in the flood, and the damage, apart from the ceiling, appears to be minimal. But I'm not setting up at my desk again until I get the waterworks sorted out.

On a completely different note, tomorrow I may be guest-starring on LAW & ORDER.