A Boring Sunday Afternoon

I wrote this Sunday afternoon, and thought I’d post it today:

It is raining. And cold. And very reminiscent of the fist lines of Jane Eyre, one of my favorite Victorian romances. “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. …The cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question.” I long to be out of doors, but the rain prevents it. Much as I love the sensations of the rain: watching the glittering raindrops, listening to the pitter-patter sound, and smelling the newly wet earth, it does have the infernal disadvantage of preventing any outdoor activity. There isn’t much outdoor activity going on in Ames over the weekend, but I should have liked to take a walk or go for a drive and be able to look on nature’s beauties unhindered by the grey shroud of rain and mist.

I have nothing very special going on this weekend. I usually have something going on… but all my friends seem to be very preoccupied this weekend. I went to a talk and book reading by an Indian author, Kaveri Nambisan. The lady is terribly multi-talented and is a rural surgeon as well as being an author. Truth be told, I was dreading the affair and wished most sincerely that I could get out of it. But she happens to be a relative of a friend, and Jose uncle, who has read some of her books, was most enthusiastic in campaigning for her. So out of loyalty to these dear friends I agreed to go. I was fully prepared for a boring afternoon listening to an author I had never read and never intended to. But I was very pleasantly surprised at the simplicity of the lady, and her completely unassuming presentation. I actually enjoyed myself immensely, and was glad that I had decided to go. So much for the silly assumptions I make!

But once I came back home wet and cold, there wasn’t much else to do other than read and watch telly. I don’t venture out half as often as I would like to, but I simply cannot understand why I feel the compelling urge to burst out onto nature’s glories when doing so simply isn’t a very feasible option. I am bored out of my wits. I wonder if things might have been different had I lived in a larger city. I expect the rain would have made things most awfully dirty, rather than pretty as it does Ames; but there might have been the advantage of having more things to do, and more people to do it with. But I shall strive and be the optimist. And watch some more telly…