The Hindering rain
The storm beat against the window of my small room.
The long fingers of rain pressed against the pane then ran down to the depths of the sill, they took my fragile soul down with them.
It was 5am, when I reluctantly inched my way slowly out of bed and took the stairs down to the garage step by painful step. The rain beat against my dressing gown and soaked into my slippers as I slowly and quietly opened the garage doors and dragged out the boxes and large heavy bin.
My hair was bedraggled and dripping down my neck. I knew it was foolhardy, but it was a situation of my own making and I realised that I must act quickly or miss the opportunity. As I closed the door behind me I cursed my forgetfulness ………
Stupid fibro fog, messing with my head.
I could have stayed warm and dry in the house, but if I missed the recycle bin collection day, I’d have another two weeks to wait.