Saturday, May 28, 2011

Friday Feels Like Sunday

'Ho hum,' she mumbled as the clouds lowered onto the prairie, again. 'What a start to the day. I need sunshine. Sunshine, I tell you; sunshine.'

The weather goddess ignored the old woman and sprinkled more rain on the windows.

'Graham, I'm not getting out of this bed til the sun shines. Forget my coffee. I'm going back to sleep.'

'Suit yourself;' he turned on the commercial espresso machine on the kitchen counter.

Covering her head with the pillow, she snuggled back under the covers. 'Never gonna get up.'

'You're pouting again. Thought you gave that up. You said you liked it here.'

'That was in the winter when there was snow on the ground. I could ski or snowshoe. What can I do in the mud?'

'Build mudmen?'

'Very funny. I'll take that coffee after all,' she said as she slid out of bed and into her shoes. 'Floor's cold.'

'I already steamed the milk. You'll have to make your own.'

'You don't read my mind very well, do you,' she grinned walking over to his desk and picking up his cup. 'I'll just drink yours.'

'Ok, ok, I'll talk to the weather goddess. Sun by noon. Will that suit?'

'Yep. And then you can have the rest of your coffee back.'