I don’t know if you feel this, this burning, a passion uncontrolled, something almost wild, hungry. I don’t know if you feel it too, but I can’t be the only one. If I were the only one yearning for a good night’s rest, I don’t know. Maybe I’d be in hysterics to find out that everyone’s content. Surely even once in one’s lifetime you’d lack a love for your sleep. Recently it’s been raining. Not really raining, per se, at least not most of the time.
All in all, the clouds gather, pulling the air along, treating us, for I fail to believe that it’s a targeted onslaught, to cold nights. Nights that make you cry inside. Nights that make you wish you had an RTX 4090 with only an air cooler. Even as I rant on the cold, I have to agree with many that it’s preferable to heat. No sane human likes sweat, I’d like to believe. I’ve yet to meet one, and I’ve met many.
Oh yes, the onslaught. The air gathers, moving in tandem with the clouds, wreaking havoc where it wills. And when it subsides, cry fully in joy, only to pick up again, this time accompanied by the rain. It taunts you, just like the wind; picks up slow, holds for a minute, then full-on blasts as if it were a competition, repeating the cycle endless times. I prefer the soft drizzle which lasts all night, but I guess it may be better to be one and done with it.
But no, that destroys crops, rips out roofing, and sometimes comes with hail, destroying more property; more importantly, it’s difficult to drown that out.
Not with music, and certainly not with conversation. You’re left with a voice unheard, text your only solace. We are a funny race indeed, humans. In time of sun, we crave rain. In times of rain, we crave shine. The problem’s just that they compare to the other in excess. Moderation is key, indeed. We ruined the ozone-not all of us, but we pay for it as one.
Microdust piles in the sky, nuclei for rain. Those quarries and mines. At times, it gets to become acidic, this rain. I digress; of course, we wish for that we don’t have.
Grass is greener not on the other side, but on the side that gets both rain and sun; in moderation, of course. Maybe that’s why I don’t much like my quality of rest when it rains. I wish for a second blanket. It doesn’t matter that I’m covered in layers of cotton- Heap unto me another. Of course, by the time there’s a change, it will be morning. It’s times like this that call for true distraction; cultivation of the romance with your phone.
The electrodes buzz and you smile- what a wonderful story. Before you know it’s morn, and you awaken. Not really, at least, not me. I don’t like to sleep. Just a good rest. Sleep makes you lazy. Imagine sleeping a third of your life. Preposterous. But rest, that’s different. You just hit pause, not stop. La vie continua.
Ah yes, to rest in the cold. While it may make the day of a Russian to chill in a sub-zero ice bath for an hour, I follow more a Finn’s narrative, the sauna. But no, I long not for hot summer nights. We don’t have seasons here, so I guess I don’t long for the dry days, at least, not in the understood sense.
So maybe I can still say I don’t long for nights in the dry season. So maybe a Finn in Russia. What a wonderful sentence. So all in all, I want an extra blanket to guard from the oppressive rain. It was good when it came in bursts and sprinkles and drizzles, but now that drift is no longer mine to catch, much less a cold. So give everyone an extra blanket: not to drown in layers of bedding, but to love the comforts that affords.
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