The Roof Is Leaking
I love Phil Collins. I can’t help it. He’s from a time before hip, from those precious days before my judgment.
I don’t miss those times, solely because I never left them. While my colleagues can’t get past Clap Your Hands And Say Yeah, or The Unicorns, or whoever is the Flavor Of The Week, I’ve always loved what I love, hipness be damned. Like Styx, or Neil Diamond, like “Elizabethtown,” which I’ve taken no shortage of ribbing for. Or like Phil Collins and his sparse, eloquent, and heartbreaking song “The Roof Is Leaking.”
It’s been raining all day. It looks like its going to rain all week.
I ran 20 miles through the downpour this morning. It was as much fun as I’ve ever had running 20 miles. Which may not sound like much. But we had a good time. I ran with Abbi and her sister Pembry. My brother would appear at my side every so often to remind me that he could pass me effortlessly. I told Abbi stories to pass the time.
“Ok, you have two titles to choose from: ‘Christmas 1980,’ or ‘A Rainy Day At Funland.’
Of course, I told her both. We had plenty of time to kill. Both were bittersweet. “Sweet and sour,” as Cameron might say. “Christmas 1980” sounds cheery, but it’s all about my parent’s divorce. It’s the day they switched custody. I’m sure they didn’t mean to ruin Christmas forever (or a while at least). It was just practical. And “A Rainy Day At Funland?” Well, my summer working at an amusement park in Rehoboth, Delaware, may have been a good one, but rain casts a dark shadow on everything.
Just as could have today. But it didn’t. The steady drizzle was a welcome respite after twenty miles (in about three hours and fifteen minutes). We had carte blanche to do absolutely, positively nothing. We ate breakfast at noon (two eggs over easy, sausage, home fries, whole wheat toast, plus a short stack of buttermilk pancakes smothered in butter and syrup for desert), then took a long nap.
Back home now, my roof is actually leaking. The wind is actually howling. The inclement weather shows no sign of abating, which is fine by me.
Cuz me? I’m getting stronger by the minute.