It's raining now, but that's all the better! The rain makes it more beautiful, if that's even possible. I can't believe how crushingly beautiful it is. But I can't go outside --- no no! that would ruin it, from here it is much better, much more beautiful. But the rain, how it patters on it, it's just hypnotizing to gaze at it now, as if it weren't before. Not to mention this window, I love the way it has a cross in the middle, and then the four little squares. I think I love the lower left square the best; it has the nicest view in my opinion. There is no such thing as doing nothing, if you look at things in amazement, because everything is astonishing, if you look at it right. I just can't get enough of the table. The way it's silly for being plastic, the way pools are gathering in, and ants are going to go on a vacation and swim in it: I love it. I don't know how long we've had it, but it wasn't for me, my sisters don't use it anymore either, it purchased for them. I'm sure if I used it before, it wouldn't be so damn attractive now, so I'm glad I never did. I'm glad the rain is going east, I can see through my little piece of lovely square window without rain falling down it, but even if it were coming my way, I would probably find that beautiful too. But back to this lovely table! It has pink benches, made of thick plastic, and the tabletop is light green, like the color of green mints, and the leg supports are brown. What odd colors: brown, green, and pink. They remind me of Easter, except for brown, brown is too ugly a color for Easter, but brown is really working well for this bench, I can't stop staring! We should have moved the bench around the yard at least once a summer, cause it sort of killed the grass. So now the rain is hitting the mud, and it's starting to make puddles, and it's splashing mud up the legs of the table, but then the rain that's coming down is washing the mud off the legs and back down to the ground. How eccentric is nature? Everything it does it just undoes in time. I think nature is very silly, but I like the way it thinks, which is why I'm looking out the window now. I wonder what that whole thing means for me, probably something to do with those ashes going back and again. Yeah, that's most likely the tie. I think when it stops raining? if it ever does? I'll go out and inspect the table, and see all of the changes that occurred from the rain. I love sitting on the ground, and looking out the window, it's funny how this bush in front of the window obscures how much I can see though, that's weird, but a good weird, I
like it. When it stops raining, I'll look into the bush too, and see how life is there. In spite of what I learned in school, I don't understand how water gets in the sky in the first place, but how cool is that? Whoever's idea it was was really funny. People always go to faraway places for waterfalls, but I think the best waterfall of all is rain, and it's always around (unless there's a drought or something like that, but they too have their pluses). I don't think I'll ever go to a waterfall for vacation; I'll just look out a window again. I don't think I'd be able to sit in that table anymore. No, definitely not, it's way too small, but it's the only thing in my yard really, so it looks big. I'll ask my sister if she wants to sit on the table, or if she wants to make lemonade, I could help her do that. But gosh, that table is beautiful, just sitting there and being a table, it's doing a really good job too, in fact, I think it's doing a magnificent job. I wonder what will happen to it, if it will ever leave. I think if I ever move out of Fleeting, aside from my necessary stuff like my toothbrush and t-shirts, I'm going to bring this table, so it always has a home and can be happy, and beau -- Dammit, dammit, what does she want now? I'm so happy here, looking at the pretty stuff, no I don't want to do the dishes, not at all, not the least bit, I want to look out at the table. I want to stay right here, and look out the lower-left window at the funny table. I'm not leaving. God, I hate her.