When I lived in Rochester, I was very used to your garden variety Seattle day--overcast, 50s, drizzley, gray, motionless, there. With a decade in the south in my hip pocket, I am No Longer a Bat. I used to be a bat. I used to LIKE being a bat. I was a happy bat. I kept my cube at Kodak dark. I mean very dark. Living in the dark makes days grey brilliant. I liked my comforter days, under the downy sweetness, everyday feeling like football season.
I don't like being a bat anymore. It's been five (six?) days now of rain, gray, dreary, nothingness. And I feel like an angry bat.
I am a very angry southern bat.