My basement clothesline now sags with dripping wet clothes. The forecast said thunder showers; I was swayed by the brilliant blue sky. So who do I blame: nature, myself, or this bloody Nova Scotia weather that changes literally in the blink of an eye?

The answer depends on where you are in your healing process. A year ago, I would have blamed the weather, railed at my ancestors who chose this forsaken ocean frontier over the Caribbean, fumed at the forecaster who was for once completely accurate and thus throwing off my plan, global warming, the sale of Star Wars to Disney, anything that provided a villain for my loss of productivity. A month ago, I would have blamed myself for being so stupid and naive. I’ve lived in Nova Scoria all my life, I should know that blue sky could mean rain, snow, hail or a windstorm in five minutes’ time. I should have listened to the radio. I should have been writing/exercising/sorting receipts/saving the whales instead of doing laundry during prime working hours.

Today, 26 days into my 30-day exploration, I watched the rain fall from a clear blue sky and said: oh, well, at least I tried. Clothes can only get so wet. There was nothing I needed to wear tonight. Good on the forecaster for finally getting something right. I thought not about the soaking mass of laundry that had to be hauled downstairs and hung. I thought about the warm sunshine on my deck as I hung them on the line, and the conversation I had with a young friend while doing it. I took a chance and hoped by nightfall I would have two loads of dry, folded fresh-smelling clothes. Instead, I have limp laundry draped and dripping over every surface imaginable in my laundry room. Oh, well, at least I tried.

Thanks for reading. See you soon.