Once a Year

Rain has this quality I like—something melancholic about it that feels almost beautiful, even when it’s just weather doing what weather does. Lucky for us it didn’t rain yesterday because we had a van full of stuff parked at a flea market between Bad Wörishofen and Irsingen. Selling things by the hour is numbing once you’ve been there a few hours, just people walking past your table, but it was worth it—I made almost 300 euros. In the evening I went to Becca’s mom’s birthday party, one of those reliably pleasant events.

I’m just glad it only happens once a year. That’s the right frequency for that particular exhaustion.