Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I hate rain. It’s like an uninvited guest who shows up on the doorstep just when you’re sitting down to dinner or a favorite TV show.

This probably says more about me than it does about rain itself, because all my friends know to call first before dropping in. I’m the sort who needs a plan, who considers all contingencies before saying, “Sure, come on over” or “Sorry, I can’t get together this afternoon.”

Rain isn’t that considerate. It doesn’t consult me before its arrival; and, even when weatherpersons attempt to provide fair warning, it does as it pleases. Like today.

I planned a variety of outdoor activities; you know – weeding, cleaning the deck, sweeping cobwebs, the kind of maintenance having a home on a river requires. Being the organized sort, I’d made a list, cleared my calendar, and gathered supplies. But You-Know-What showed up. You-Know-What is making everything wet. You-Know-What is keeping me inside.

A favorite saying of mine just flashed through my consciousness: “When the student is ready the teacher will come.” Hmmm. Could there be a lesson in flexibility here?