It is raining and raining. Water gushes in the gutters. Drops dink against the metal chimney liner. A steady downpour shushes me into slippers and under a blanket instead of into workout clothes.

I know weather is not supposed to be interesting to talk about. It is the cliché small talk topic. Weather is big, though. It is ever present. It is not a nothing. Unless I stay indoors, weather can determine the fate of my mood, my comfort, my energy level, what I want to listen to, what I wear, what I do.

Even indoors, weather seeps in. Snow, then ice, earlier in the week knocked our power out for almost 24 hours. We lit candles and a fire that evening and read by battery powered lights. Temperatures dipped below freezing outside. Our bedroom is far from the fire, and the floor by the fireplace was not padded enough for my old body to sleep on. We wore long underwear and slept under an extra down comforter on our bed.

We worried overnight that the kitties would turn to popsicles. I woke at 5:30 am to a still dark, still cold house, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I had no light for my regular writing practice, and my mind raced about stuff at work. I turned my laptop on, tethered to my phone, and started working. We lit another fire. I drove to get coffee, along with every other person in town. I sat in the drive-through line for 20 minutes.

That was a long, draining day. More draining than I realized in the moment. Every thing I did required new microdecisions or included unanticipated obstacles. I fed logs to the fire and worked from battery packs until every device and every battery pack petered out. I had no juice left. Not in me, not in my laptop, my phone, or 5 different portable power sources.

I walked 20 minutes under a blue sky to Panera, the closest place I would potentially be able to get wifi and a power outlet. The warm sun created torrents of meltwater that poured from gutter spouts and rushed along the edges of streets. The sun felt wonderful on my face.

When I arrived, Panera was slammed. I was clearly not the first person in town to have this idea. Open laptops topped nearly every table, all the outlets were taken, the pastry case was empty, and the internet was down. I took this as a sign that it was time to end my workday. I’d already put in a long day anyway. Luckily, I had brought my book. I bought coffee and read at a table by the window where the warm sun poured in on me. The table was unwanted by anyone else; there was not a power outlet anywhere in sight.

After snow, sleet, freezing rain, ice, and sun over the past few days, today’s rain feels like permission to rest. It says, stay inside. Be soothed. Take it easy. Enjoy the click and shush of the heater coming on. Snuggle under that fuzzy blanket. Cuddle with a kitty. Read your book.