rainy day

St. Paul is in the throes of a rainy day—sometimes drizzling, other times positively monsoonal. By all rights, it’s a good day to wallow in it. The overcast gray sky precisely matches my mild depression, which has been provoked by a lousy night of sleep, not to mention a persistent sore throat, congestion, and skin sensitivity. I’m on the verge of a sneeze with no relief in sight. Cold-and-flu season is knocking, and I forgot to look out the peephole before I opened.

I’d like to decamp to the sofa in our den. Curl up with a good book. Turn on the Food Network for background noise. John would bring me soup and wake-up tea. The boys would play quietly or cuddle with me. My fantasy life is simple.

Instead, I’m at the office where the lights are too bright and coworkers voices are too loud. Work is super stressful right now. The pub team is swimming in projects; we’re feeling the affects of being short an editor; and we’re getting up to speed with a new designer.

Still, I love what I do and, as always, I work best under immense amounts of pressure. I’m currently juggling two issues that need to be paginated and two issues that need new editorial written (including editor’s letters, contents, captions, a testimonial, and a new feature article). I’ve been asked to rewrite nearly all the text on a cover, not to mention editing coworkers’ stuff. And, well, I could go on, but what would be the point.

Some days are like that—even in Australia.

Reading: United States of Arugula, David Kamp’s lively and appetite-piquing account of the American Food Revolution

Listening (audio book): Jane Austen’s brilliant Pride and Prejudice—a 39 for 39 title that I’m trying to finish by the end of the month.

Listening (music): Big Country’s “Where the Rose Is Sewn”—big shout-out to another Jen S for reminding me of a favorite band and song from the early 80s. Hard not to get choked up over timeless lyrics such as: “If I die in a combat zone, box me up and ship me home.”