We had a little weather fiasco today...storms, hail, lighting, tornadoes, flooding...I was waiting for locusts and 7 horsemen, but alas, it seems God may not be tired of us just yet.
My typically level-headed father, bless his heart, was freaking the fu@k out. I think this sprung from the fact that he was at home in Florida watching DVDs of the TV show "24". It just had him all wired up. He was alternately watching the show, monitoring the weather satellite on his laptop, and speed-dialing me to make sure I was okay and give me updated information. I wanted to tell him if I needed an update, I could just turn my head to the left. It's all right there out my window.
But I decided not to burst his adrenaline-laced bubble.
So he calls about a half-hour into tornado warning #94 to tell me I need to "get downstairs, pronto!". I live on the second (and top) floor of the most shoddily constructed apartment building you've ever seen. No, seriously. Two weeks ago part of one of the concrete steps literally crumbled beneath my feet as I went downstairs. I may not be as lean as I once was, but this is supposed to be CONCRETE. Naturally, my Father now wanted as much shoddy construction as humanly possible between me and a swirling, sucking, 150MPH vortex.
I decided to call my friendly apartment managers and inquire after our Disaster Plan. Every building in Texas has a designated "shelter", but I've been remiss in asking about ours. Do you know what our Assistant Manager, Jeannie, said when I called? She told me to get to know my downstairs neighbor. THAT'S your plan, lady? Make new friends?? That's a Girl Scout motto, not a plan! You only get to call it a "Plan" if it requires 5 or more minutes of dedicated thought.
Jesus. It's going to be a long Spring in tornado alley.
Not surprisingly, my phone call with Jeannie was interrupted by another directive from my very alert father. "Get upstairs! You need to get upstairs now! I've been watching the satellite, and it's the flooding that's going to be your biggest problem! Flooding is what kills the most people!" I let him know that, while I appreciate the statistics, I am a fine swimmer. It's the flying I'm not so good at. Think I'll take my chances down low.
Did I mention I miss home? I can handle a little rockin' and rollin'. It's being sucked up by a giant Hoover and deposited somewhere east of the Mississippi I can't hack.
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