Another rainy evening

I can hear the small splatter of raindrops on my window. In one way I like it, I think it's cosy to crawl up in bed with a good book or in front of the tv watchin a movie when the rain's pouring down. The latter should be done in company with someone you care. I think summer is at last defeated, as i'm waking up every morning shivering even though I'm wrapped in my very cosy goose feather cover. Walking around in the appartment with only a top and shorts is not an option either. Today my wolly socks were taken out of their hiding place and put on my dead cold feet.

Even though I normally suffer from some kind of depression when the weather gets colder and yellow and red leaves fall to the ground, I find myself enjoying the colorfull heaps around the paths, not feeling depressed at all. Too many episodes of Sex and the city, and I see visions of a colourful New York with a longing moan in my tummy. I want to be there, experience it all, and of course it wouldn't hurt to be in Sarah Jessica Parker's shoes, just for once. In times like these I drift away in day dreams, longing to be somewhere else. Might this be called a depression anyway? It might be that I do feel depressed, though supressing it, infusing a faulty impression of only simple day dreaming. Rather indifferent to the weather change, I feel that there's just life as it has been for a very long time now.

Oh how I wish I had a solid strong window sill to sit on...