A bit more rain to prime the pump

I like rain in the morning, even knowing how much of it is going to end up in my basement. I like dark skies and thunder and the dog curled up at my feet, largely oblivious. I like the first of May, and the saturated greens of the grass and the trees viewed through rain-dappled windows. I like listening to NPR, at least for those fleeting hours before Diane Rehm comes on. Oh, and brown paper packages tied up with string …

Which is my way of saying that I have nothing else to write about this morning. On the news it’s all flash-flood warnings and swine flu precautions and Chrysler’s collapse. Not much to say about that. I have a novel on a flash drive that will embarrass me if I send it to another agent and will embarrass me more if I don’t. (One of the downsides of pretending to be a writer is that you’re expected, occasionally, to provide some evidence of it.) But the rain precludes yard work and I’ve read all the news sites, so this will be a writing day. Or a rewriting day. And this is me warming up.