Oh beautiful, glorious, peaceful rain.
Rain that casts an almost peaceful melancholy over the city. Rain that snarls Atlanta traffic so. Rain that makes Christmas shopping suddenly seem like a bad idea.
Gifts can wait. Craft supplies can wait.
To look out my big window at work and see the Georgia Dome obscured by lashes of falling rain, I know that I need to take the train home, change into my sweatpants, drink some tea, knit a special something, and bake some oatmeal bread.
It is just that kind of night.
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