What disappointments will it bring today?

 Eight thirty in the morning and the summer storm outside is strengthening. There is the sound of heavy raindrops on the tin and the tiles of the roofs above and beyond the balcony. It is not cold but the temperature is pleasantly cooler. The sky is grey and the light is dim.

It is the perfect day for writing and reading at the open balcony window, looking out onto the long balcony that was probably first built some hundreds of years ago. Perhaps the pepper and tomato plants are looking askance at the lack of sunlight, but sure it will be back. 

The sound of the rain is producing a steady background noise which forces any other sound to mute. It is like the silence enjoyable at the alpine strand.

Turn on the table light, so that the eyes not let the fingers get lost on the flat keyboard of the notebook on the old table. The bed is not made yet, the start of the downpour outside has interrupted the usual routine. During the preparation of breakfast downstairs in the kitchen the downpour was heralded by the sound of the heavy raindrops on the skylight, and the gurgling from the gutters immediately afterwards.

Now the rain is dying down, the show will be over, and the bed will be made and the day will go on.

What disappointments will it bring today?