A rainbow

"There's a beautiful rainbow," she said from the office door.

It took a moment to process it. I'd been sitting with my back to the window, typing away at the notes for the Staff Council meeting I had attended a few hours before.  I was dimly aware of a brisk damp breeze blowing through the window.  I had weighted down my notes with stapler and tape dispenser, but I hadn't turned around to see what was happening.  Now I did turn, and saw a golden light through the slats of the window shades.

I grabbed my cell phone from my pack and walked quickly to the east door of the building, the Library's unofficial entrance.  Facing east, I saw the right leg of brilliant rainbow.  I came further out, and there it was,  a complete bow, arching from the middle of the Taos mountain  range to the north and ending at the southernmost  campus building.  It was immense and perfect, and I couldn't hope to capture it with my little cell phone.  But I tried.  I walked through the spattering of raindrops to the north and west, trying to get a clear view of the mountain with this incredible prism dropping to its peak.  When I got to the point where I could see the peaks clearly, I was also able to see the setting sun.  It was a bright orb at the rim of the earth, with a golden haze above and a few glittering clouds to the side.  Over there, the sky was almost clear.  North, east, and west, the sky was filled with clouds, some dropping rain, some clumping up around a few specks of a cerulean blue.

But the rainbow filling the eastern sky took control, and I could only look away for a short time.  It absorbed the mind and the emotions in a way that could not be analyzed, only felt.  It was so big, so perfect, so semicircular.  In this land of big skies, the rainbow seemed to carve out its territory and make the sky even bigger in the process.  The wind whipped my hair around my face, and the rain spatters became a little stronger.  I was chilled, and I had to go back to work.  But I couldn't focus, so I pulled up my pictures and tried to edit them to show the glory .  It was futile.  All I had was a dim indication of the glorious awe I had experienced.

Later, when I left work, the sun had set, leaving a pale blue streak along the horizon.  A huge bank of clouds covered the southern sky.  It was edged in white, surrounded by the dark blue sky, still clear of stars.  I could tell a full moon sailed behind that cloud bank.  To the east, the clouds lit up with lighting flashes, and as I drove home, I watched similar flashes to the north.  If there was thunder, it was too far away to be heard.  The wind had died down, and all was still.

Still later, I walked out into a silvered landscape:  the moon was clear of the clouds, or the clouds had drifted away, while I was eating dinner and washing dishes.  I strolled down the road, listening to the not-so-distant barking of coyotes and dogs, watching the lightning, which was still outlining the northern and eastern edges of the sky.  I drew a deep breath and wondered again why I ever want to leave this enchanted landscape.

Irritability

I woke up in Albuquerque and drove home in the dawn.  The sunrise was lovely further south:  feathery golden clouds outlining a sharp ridged blue-black mountain range.  Then the clouds got thicker, with wispy coverage down the slopes, and the mountain's outline went dim, merging into the clouds, which extended into the sky.  The rising sun kept climbing, trying to get above cloud cover, continuously edging it with gold, but finally the clouds won. By the time I reached home, we were socked in, the temp was 33 degrees, and the wind was whistling through the top story, where the windows are shut but not bolted.  (They will remain so until someone with a tall ladder comes by.)

This is fine with me:  I'm trying to take care of business in the house, and that bloody sunshine keeps dragging me outside.  Unfortunately, stormy weather brings out the worst in E.  "Don't you think we should bring in those chairs?"  "No, they've lived outside for 3 years, they are fine."  "But they'll get wet."  "And then they'll dry:  it just takes a short time."  "I think they should come inside."  "They are fine outside, there's no room inside."  "Just put them in front of the door."  "That's in your path to the bathroom."  "I'm going to bring in the chairs."

I put aside the crossword puzzle and bring in the chairs.  One is against a wall in the living area, the other in the shower part of the bathroom.  It actually looks okay, but I'll have to move it every time I take a shower.  And of course, there will be a chair shlep every time we want to sit outside.

Back to the crossword puzzle.  "We're running out of toilet paper."  "No, we have 8 rolls, I checked yesterday."  "We should get more toilet paper."  "We're fine for now."  "I guess E can buy some when she gets here."  "That's 8 days from now, there's no way we'll be using a roll a day."  "I think we need to buy more toilet paper."

To distract her from this topic, I set her up to read and reply to email.  That keeps her fairly occupied, with only occasional interruptions.  "I've lost everything I typed!"  "No, it's right there, see?"  "Oh, yes....but what's that?"  "It's the letter you're answering."  "Where's my letter?"  "Right there."

In between, I try to fix the cord to the Mac.  It is almost completely severed, and tape doesn't fix it.  So, I bring the laptop next door to recharge, and then start up the Dell.  And every time I try to open a site, I get the wheeling symbol that says nothing is loading.  I click on the reload button and go to the next site.  And click on that reload button.  And then back.  And then click.  And then close the window and try again.  And then click on the reload.  And....

I can feel my jaw clenching.  E gasps and calls my name, with a rising note of panic:  "I've lost the letter!"

At this juncture, a person with access to her wise mind would put on jeans and go for a walk in the now cloudless day.  But instead, I go into my room and start going through mail and papers and desk drawers.  I find a stack of things that need to be taken care of:  bills to pay or dispute, Cobra to be answered, the Sprint iPhone to be returned, receipts to be recorded and filed, tax info to process.

What have I been doing for the past month?  Clearly, not taking care of business.

It's all sorted and put away, still undealt-with.  E has successfully emailed her letter, and I'm trying to get motivated to do something productive or creative.  Or at least, non-irritating.