Why I Shouldn't Wear Rainboots
By storygirl on October 12, 2011
At some point before my alarm went off this morning, I recognized that it was storming. It was easy enough to make the decision not to get up and walk--I couldn't have taken Charlie for a walk because it was raining too hard, and we've had bad experiences with that before--and especially with thunder and lightning being involved. I thought I might still get up and walk on the treadmill, but I talked myself out of that, too. I used to be so good about morning exercise, because I knew I would always feel better if I just made myself do it--but that's getting harder and harder. Part of it's that I haven't worked out a good routine, a satisfactory way to balance the hours, since we bought our house and moved from Dallas to Irving--closer to my parents and sisters, but farther from work.
So I didn't walk, and I wore my rainboots, which are pink and checked with a pink, purple and green diamond pattern. My old rainboots were black and polka-dotted--I wore those completely out to the point of holes and everything, but I haven't worn these as much. Maybe it's because I work in a place now that seems less accepting of quirks and eccentricities, and rather than feeling fun, I just feel silly. Especially when the sun comes out mid-morning, all of the clouds disappear, and if you didn't know better and if not for occasional tell-tale puddles, you would think it hadn't rained in days. The sun seems to invariably behave in this manner when I wear my rainboots. I used to wear them as insurance against it raining all day, but I really wanted it to rain all day today. I was in that kind of mood, introverted, introspective, a rainy-day type of mood.
Maybe it's just that I'm tired. Again with the balancing of days, I can't seem to get to bed early enough if I'm going to get up and walk Charlie at 5:00. People think I'm crazy for getting up so early, for all the things I do before work. But I like to get these things done in the mornings, and the mornings, once I've managed to persuade myself to stop hitting snooze and get up, are when I have more energy to do them.
I've always been a nester and a nurturer. Jake and I bought a house closer to my family but farther from work because, like I told him, "Jobs can come and go." It's been good being closer to them, and I love our house. I know we made the right decision, but I do hate the drive. No--that's not even true. I don't mind the drive itself, really, because I can listen to audiobooks or music...it's the time it takes that I mind. I've done a long commute before, and I remember how the drive wore on me, the limited time I had at home.
I guess that's the crux of the problem: the limited time at home. I never get bored there; I never run out of things to do. When we first moved in, I wasn't taking lunch breaks, just eating at my desk so I could leave an hour earlier--but then it got nicer outside, finally after our excruciating summer. Today, I thought, "Well, good, it's raining, I won't feel like I need to take a lunch and go to the park." Then, of course, the sun came out, and I couldn't help it--I went to the park. I knew I shouldn't have worn my rainboots.
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