fuzzy rain

It's raining cats and dogs here, been raining all day. I biked in the rain to the swimming pool and got soaked. I hear the water puddling and can hear the racket caused by raindrops crashing into collected bodies of water. It's noisy this afternoon. What can i do? I should close that window there. I'm listening to Pandora this afternoon. I wolfed down some food after my swim, am always very hungry then. Had minestrone soup, peanuts, a poached egg, a glass of hard cider. Still, with all that I can't seem to get food out of my mind. Anticipating the prospect of eating a steak with a glass of red wine somehow wants me to blame the dreary weather. But it isn't all that dreary, for after all, here I am at home under a roof writing in the afternoon light. Other week-ends recently at this time have found me sitting around alone at work doing next to nothing. There I would plan to get a lot or reading and writing done, but never get around to it. The environment I feel prevents productive personal behaviour. Nothing can be referenced. Windows cannot be opened, it's a vacuum in that room. Too many hard surfaces and not enough fuzz, which I believe very effectively stimulates the imagination and makes one want to step outside of oneself. Fuzz and objectivity is dinner and dessert once and for all.