A nice rainy day is just what the doctor ordered when you are my room. During a sunny weather spell the space I occupy closely resembles a battlefield in which the clothes seem to have put together a rather successful invasion strategy. It starts with my shoes. I have so many different shoes that I wear, depending on what activity I partake in - running, mountain biking, road biking, going to work, etc. Close to follow are the clothes that go with these activities. Typically it is the result of poor time management, I must confess. I usually get done biking just in time to take a shower, change, and run to work; and the clothes find themselves on the floor.

So today it rained and Dave, with nothing better to do, cleaned his room.

Rainy days can also become the catalyst for thoughts like "I wonder what Dad is up to" (ie, "I wonder if Dad would buy me dinner"); and with a simple phone call, I found out. We met at Cici's for a bite to eat and the usual debate on religion and politics took over and continued until well after we were done eating.

My Father, by brother, and I may never see eye-to-eye on these issues, but I am OK with that. In fact, I love this part of our relationship. No matter how different we see something, or how heated the debates get, it always ends with a joke, a hug, and a sincere "I love you".

No matter how much I love the outdoors, sunshine, an open stretch of road to ride on, or a trail to run on, my room and my soul can always benefit from a good rain day.