It's raining. It's always raining it seems. Lately my lack of energy is almost stifling. Today I curled up on the couch with my dog, Maddie. I lay next to her, wrapped in a big, soft blanket, feeling the tickle of her whiskers against my face and the circle of heat her breath created on my forehead. I'm not afraid to say that I adore my dog. She's gigantic and soft and puts up with my constant need to show her overly large amounts of affection. In fact, that may have been where I went wrong with her. I showed her too much love. Because now, every morning at about five I'm woken up by the soft snuffling of her face against mine. She patiently nuzzles my face until I open my eyes and I'm trapped by the appeal of her large, heartfelt, brown eyes staring into mine. Resistance is futile. Very rarely am I ever able to refuse, instead I pat the bed next to me invitingly. She eagerly jumps up and curls up next to me, pressing into me with all her might to get as close as possible and settles her face next to mine. Our morning ritual. It doesn't matter that the weight of her body against mine gives me back pain from the awkward positioning and impossibility of turning over or readjusting. The softness of her fur against my arm and the gentle warmth of her breath are eternally peaceful.
Deep down I feel the urge to be productive but I can't seem to stir up the energy or passion needed. The rain keeps falling and with it falls my energy. I'm tired and wistful, dreaming of a reality in which I don't have to work. The world keeps moving without me, the dishes keep piling up and the laundry pile grows larger, but I can't seem to join the dance. I'm stuck in limbo, sick and tired of trying to keep up. If I could just take a few days off, pass the chores onto someone else for just a little while then maybe I could recharge, feel better. But it keeps raining.