This morning I woke up with a visit from everybody's favourite aunt in my head: Drizzelda, with her fun parlour games for inclement days. It had not yet started to rain, and I did not need to go pee, so that wasn't influencing the dream. The rain started twenty minutes ago and will probably go on all day. I shall stay in, with the creatures (one-legged gibbon, rooster, obstreperous turkey vulture, rowdy piglet, various penguins, etcetera), amd pretend that all is well with the world. Well. Not wet. Been there, done that. I lived in the Netherlands from age two to age eighteen. I know wet.
Nor was the phone ringing. Usually there are two or three spam calls from India at that early hour. Maybe they've been snowed under, over there in Jullundur.
Everybody's favourite aunt is Hungarian. Still in mourning for Sigismund of Luxembourg, as well as Francis, conqueror of Transdanubia.
I don't know why her nationality is important; she speaks excellent English. But it probably factors into her gloomious personality.
She's a widow. One suspects self-made.
Personally, I am not much for parlour games. I intend to retire to the teevee room and spend several hours on the computer. Seeing as my apartment mate has gone to work, I shall close her door firmly, open a window for ventilation, and smoke a pipe while reading. Maybe even an entire chapter from my brilliant cousin's groundbreaking work about the art and iconography of the crucified god during the Carolingian period.
Lunch will not be delayed by the weather. It should have stopped raining by then.
I think I want something greasy and packed with flavour.
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