Last night it was dark at nine o’clock.
The days change by a minute or two, so slowly that you don’t really notice. But then suddenly the pieces fall in place and you realize that whereas it was clearly light until well after 9 p.m. in late June, it is now dark by then.
The fact that it was cloudy and rain threatened only accentuated the general trend. The days are growing shorter, the construction vacation—that peculiarly Quebec institution—is half over, summer is advancing, and I haven't accomplished half the fun things and only a quarter of the non-fun things I'd hoped to by now.
The fact that when it had gotten well and truly dark last night a thunder storm blew in doesn't help manners. In the space of fifteen minutes at least a half inch of rain fell, or more than our roof drain could handle. Some rain water backed up in to the basement, leading to much newspaper-spreading last night and some literal mopping up this morning.
So I for one feel like a little musical encouragement this morning. The line at the end is the eternal one for all aspiring artists, while singing about cars (and remember the Mustang Wilson Pickett ostensibly had in mind was Ford's attempt to make something sexy in 1963) is almost as provocative.