Today is a rainy day. Everything outside is wet, but the colors are so vibrant, alive. Almost makes me want to go outside just to see if the rain would work the same magic on me.

But I stay inside, because it is cozy and I plan on staying in my pajamas as long as possible. Not too many days like this anymore.

I remember when I was younger we would spend whole weekends and never leave the house. I’d read, or play video games, and it was very relaxing. I’m lucky now to get a few hours to myself for these things, let alone a whole weekend.

Even now, my rainy day will be spent cleaning house, rather than writing my book. My thoughts are as cluttered and disorganized as my house. And I can’t write when things are so chaotic.

The sound of rain outside the window is constant, loud, soothing. There’s something magical about it, how it creeps into your bones.