Okay, so I guess I shouldn't have challenged Mother Nature
yesterday. Today my little neck of the woods
was under a tornado warning for … forty-five minutes … then an hour … then an
hour and a half …
The only room in my house that doesn't have full-sized
windows, or any windows for that matter, is the bathroom. I rode out a microburst a few years ago that
tore right over that part of the house and blasted apart a tree only feet away,
so I feel pretty confidant that it's well-constructed for wind purposes. I figure the bathroom has everything I
need: a tub to sleep in, water from the
sink, towels if I get cold, and a toilet, well, you know, just in case.
Tornado or no, I took my cell, some magazines, a few puzzles,
a headset, and an emergency flashlight, and prepared to feel the house pull a
Gale Farmhouse Spinarama. I watched the
radar on my phone and finally emerged back into civilization after about ninety
minutes once I was certain three storm systems had safely passed by. All right, so I didn't stay in there the whole
time. I came out a few times to grab
some snacks and look outside and grab a fan and watch some television. Don't tell the people at the Emergency
Broadcast System; they sent me several alerts, and I want them to believe I
took them very seriously.
Some of the music I listened to, though, cracked me up. The words were rather appropriate should the
house tear from its foundation after the hundred and fifty or so years it has
been standing: Feel so lost sometimes, until you die, never going home again, state of
Massachusetts, I'll be home, where you live nobody knows, just when it seems so
clear that it's over now, and, of course, shaking the tree. All this
and I played a skeeball app, posted on Facebook, checked my mail, texted back
and forth, answered a few calls, read a magazine, and attempted to complete a
couple of puzzles before giving up.
Alas, when the warning lifted, I was not on Oz. All in all, Mother Nature flexed her muscles
back at me after I dared her to (I believe my exact words were, "Let the
games begin"), and it was merely an inconvenience today. Thankfully. This has given me an idea, though.
I'll never win the lottery jackpot. Never, ever.
Don't believe me, Lottery Commission? I dare you!
(I'll keep you posted on how this works out.)
