It's raining a lot right now. This has nothing to do with the fact that I live in Vancouver. In actuality, it's been a very dry fall. But that's being made up for now, and I hope it means that snow is absolutely DUMPING on the hills. It's torrential.

But it's gorgeous to sit at home, lying on your new futon in your living room listening to the rain coming down hard on all the different surfaces outside. The wooden railroad ties that make up the planters, the cement floor tiles, the glass windows, the metal gutters, the terra cotta pots, the barbecue cover, the fabric chair that I left out there accidentally and now it will rot and get gross. The old ikea table that's out there holding up plastic pot holders and things that I don't use anymore.

It's like another world and I'm at a window looking into it. It's as if the world I'm in is perpetually dry, and moisture is precious. Dune. It's like watching the rain fall and feeling how dry your mouth is, and imagining the rain falling into it as you turn your face up to the sky. If I stepped out, through the window, there would be so much water that I'd drown and wake up somewhere else, a world that was full of water and dampness and wet, looking through another window at a dry and sunbaked place. The grass is always greener on the other side, I've heard them say...