At 5:55 AM I tapped my touchpad to "Register for this schedule" one last time. Technically, I tapped it about fifteen times until the person controlling the server decided to get their act together and open registration two minutes late at 5:57. One last teaser for old time's sake, and probably a bit of a power trip, sniggering at us all behind the guise of a computer screen. He/she must have loved imagining how annoyed we all were, sitting in our beds and just wanting to go back to bed for a few more hours.
Meanwhile, all this rain has me thinking about traipsing through the English countryside in wellies and a herringbone jacket as if I were a modern day Elizabeth Bennet, off to Netherfield and six inches deep in mud. Someday. And when that day comes I'll lead my dogs back over the stone retaining wall, through the picket fence and garden beds and into the house, where we will retire by the fire. Knees up to my chest and tea on the table adjacent my wingback chair I'll read Dickens. I'll occasionally look out on the rain through the window and wonder what Jemima Puddleduck, Mr. Jeremy Fisher and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle are up to. It's silly I know, to dream up such fanciful ideas about a life that doesn't exist, at least not yet. But where would any of us be without these spurts of the imagination? I for one would be bored and uninspired. There is the hope of always pursuing beauty. I will chase it to the very end.
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