Finding comfort in the rhythm of the rain

The temperature finally got above freezing, so we just had rain all day.
But it’s supposed to drop into the teens tonight, so who knows what the roads will look like in the morning.

Heron went to his girlfriend’s house, and he’ll be back tomorrow or Tuesday.
He made it just fine. 
The rain washed away whatever icing we had.
Cowboy made it to morning church service, but they cancelled evening church service.
That’s a little off to me, but maybe they were afraid of the temperature suddenly dropping and a big ice event happening.
Who knows.

They called Raven into work at 8 pm, and he said they’re hoping to finish early and get everyone home before the weather gets worse.
Apparently they don’t have a set quitting time. 
They stop when there are no more trucks to unload.

I had Cowboy take me up to the Dollar Store.
We bought aluminum foil at Target, and now it’s missing.
While we were cooking supper tonight, we realized five cans of refried beans are missing too.
Cowboy doesn’t touch the kitchen, so that leaves Heron and Raven, and both of them insist they haven’t touched the beans or the foil.
Badger and I searched the whole house, and none of it is here.
That doesn’t mean we won’t walk in tomorrow and find it sitting in plain sight or shoved in the freezer.
Things like that happen here.
It’s because things like that happen here that we’ve started keeping track of what’s in the cabinet and what gets used up.

It was a stay‑inside kind of day.
Badger didn’t leave her room, and Raven rested up for work.
Cowboy napped, and I took a little nap too.
Mostly it was reading, watching TV, and playing on the computer.

Badger was supposed to have therapy tomorrow, she sent a message to cancel, there is a slight risk for black ice.
I was supposed to go to the doctor on Tuesday, but I’m cancelling.
I’m sick of being on that interstate, and nighttime temperatures aren’t supposed to get out of the teens and twenties until well, my forecast goes up to February 9th, and it’s still saying teens and twenties then.
I’m not getting a half‑blind, can’t‑drive‑worth‑a‑hoot Cowboy on the interstate and risking hitting some ice.
Nope.
No ma’am.

With that, I am heading to bed.
If I am being honest, this has been a difficult day for me.
I am beginning to understand the fear Anne Frank described.
America is starting to feel like the Third Reich all over again.