As I sat on the front porch in the midst of a mild drizzle a line from a song came to mind “rainy day Mondays always get me down…” I really don’t remember the words to much of the rest of the song. I can hum a few bars and I remember enjoying it, but the thought came to me today about how it’s Saturday, it’s raining, and I’m enjoying every drop of it.
It’s amazing what a difference in perspective will give you. As I am at the end of my life and rejoicing in the blessings of God, the rain is a refreshing break in the heat of Texas. The rain is a renewing touch upon a parched earth. The steady, yet ever varied sound of raindrops is soothing. Why would that ever get me down?
I guess I’m not lost in a love triangle. I didn’t have a picnic canceled. My baseball game didn’t get rained out. I don’t remember what the singer was upset about.
That old saying about one man’s trash being another man’s treasure comes to mind as I watch the rain from my predawn porch. I see the hand of God. The singer saw the loneliness.
Take your pick.
homo unius libri
Saturday, February 21, 2026
Opus 2026-107: It Is not Monday
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Comments are welcome. Feel free to agree or disagree but keep it clean, courteous and short. I heard some shorthand on a podcast: TLDR, Too long, didn't read.