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Monday was grosser than gross here in New Haven. It was a dark, cold, rainy day. The sort of day that Emily Bronte would totally have written long-winded, Gothic novels about, complete with horrible characters whose souls were just as dank and dead as the depressing weather they lived in. I was quite surprised Heathcliff wasn’t wandering up and down my street screaming “Cathy!!!!” as he beat his manly chest in fits of dangerous passion. He would have felt right at home with the wet and the chill and the wind.

I have Mondays off, so I didn’t have to venture out into the moist, sucktastic awfulness until much later. I took full advantage of my freedom and spent most of the day working on various writing projects in my flannel-sheeted bed. I also brought my relationship with my electric blanket to a whole new level. Seriously, the only time I detangled myself from its warm embrace was to leave the house for a marathon of evening meetings.

The next morning, I woke up, feeling rather shameful about the amount of time I spent under an electric blanket. But the shame was fleeting, especially when I noticed sunlight filtering in through my bedroom’s curtains. Its soft yellow glow seemed so foreign and new after yesterday’s miserable darkness. I walked to my window and parted the curtains. The sunshine was real and was shining on the large pot of kale that lives on my balcony. I had winterized my garden this past weekend, and out of curiosity, I repotted my healthiest kale plant and put it on my balcony. Since kale grows throughout the winter months, I thought it would be fun to still have growing things on my balcony—a jolly green presence amidst the chill and cold and snow. The plant wasn’t very happy after its transplant. In spite of my valiant watering efforts, its leaves sulkily slumped out and down from its main stem. But after Monday’s downpour, its leaves reached up and out to the sun in a stout and decided manner.

I smiled. Perhaps yesterday’s weather wasn’t that Brontesque after all. It’s dank dampness did encourage life.