santa ana

I was going to bed in my gloomy way last night, caught in that stillborn pre-dawn hour when it feels like nothing is moving, everything on TV is paid programming, and you're just as asleep being awake as you would be actually sleeping. Various feelings of overwork and underachievement nagged at me as I tried to muster up metabolically sufficient excuse to call it another day. (I'm the kind of guy who reasons, if all your days at work are more or less the same, couldn't you just repeat Tuesday indefinitely until something in your routine changes? and thus not suffer the wasting effects of time's passage)
....Then in the dark I could hear the Santa Ana wind coming through the crack in my window. I could hear it rustling around in my room, jostling the door, trying to run through the house. The motion and sound of that wind brought me such a strong feeling of comfort (probably enhanced by the Tylenol PM), just the tactile sensation of movement in the stillness, as well as the formidable presence of Mother Nature, who has been so hard on us lately, but also provides us, elementally, with everything we need.

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