It's a gloomy morning with damp oozing out the air. Very atmospheric, kind of Rebecca meets Lord of the Rings. The dogs are oblivious, but I'm already feeling lethargic and at the same time as if I should be making soup and baking bread. I'm sure it won't go that far, but we do take our clues from our weather so often. It's hard to resist. Build-in, you might say. Just having a wear a raincoat makes me all Sherlock Holmesy, and damp pavement makes the threat of slipping uppermost in my mind. I wore my clogs as I walked the dogs, and when they met a basset hound I let go of the leash and let them run over to overwhelm the poor dog, as I didn't want to attempt to hold them back without mountaineering crampons. Luckily, the hound had no manners either, and thought my dogs were the cat's pajamas. I nevertheless apologized to the owner. It's always best to appear to be civilized.
I often want to eat more in this kind of weather. I must have chips with my sandwich and hot cocoa and muffins dance in my mind. Salad seems way too cold, and buttered slabs of bread begin to appeal more than usual. It's hard to get by on a dreary day with less than 3,000 calories. The only way to avert catastrophe is to sleep as much as possible, and stay upstairs with a mystery and ignore the kitchen. However, today I have my foster granddaughter, but we're going out for lunch and I'm taking her to a science center, so as long as I order wisely and avoid bakeries, I should be okay until dinnertime. Now, if I go to bed at six pm I can minimize overeating, but then the forecast is for rain every day this week, so either I am going to have to stock up on mysteries and ask for a prescription for sleeping pills, or avoid the scales in my bathroom.
Or I could pray for wisdom and restraint. And do my exercise video more than once a day to make up for the toast. Ah, weather. I'm at it's mercy.
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