Low Pressure.

The dog refused to go back inside after the dogwalk, and so we're coming to you live from the WeatherDeck, where the humidity is approximately 250% and the wind is gusting to 30 or so mph, if we take an average of what the fancies are reporting. ANYLF has no anemometer, though a day like today makes me want one. At least one of those roosters mounted to the roof. Storms are coming. There isn't any doubt of that. This thing has cleared the mountains and already come back together and is giving hard rain to places like Gastonia and Yadkinville. We're next. Grab those sheets and towels off the line. Stack up the green plastic chairs.

I tried all morning to figure a way to stay home with the dog, who cannot abide such things as hail and wind, but it turns out I have a job. That I have to go to. Most days. I intend to spend all afternoon figuring out how to get out from underneath that.

A spring storm. Interesting. I think I remember this.

In other news, the crocuses bloomed. They're the only thing in the city that's doing anything at the right time. Everything else feels about two weeks ahead. Which is how I feel, come to think of it. Like my calendar's a little bit damaged. I'm fine, for the most part— I just can't quite get my head wrapped fully around what time it is, what day it is. I'm just slightly off. What we need is a good solid rainstorm. Maybe a cool snap. Some sort of modifying, regulating influence. Slow us back down just enough to have time to look at everything that needs looking at. Like the crocuses. Easy to miss.

Rain's coming. Go roll up the car windows. Bring in the tools. Be prepared.