The Aftermath

The promised tornadoes did not make an appearance last night. I was ready for them. I had a blanket and a bag full of bagels and peanut butter in the basement. And water. I don’t drink a lot of water, but I imagine if my house fell down and I was trapped in the basement, I’d suddenly realize that I was thirsty. There’s the wine cellar, of course, but I don’t think we keep a corkscrew in the basement. (Note to self: put extra corkscrew next to wine rack.)

I know the weather people are very disappointed; today they have little to talk about. They will show us some big hail stones that somebody took a picture of, and reporters will be sent out to check on tree limbs that fell on cars, but nobody really cares.

Last night they had us glued to the set, watching that yellow-orange amoeba creep across the map towards us. Even when the tornado watch expired, they didn’t give up. “We may still experience some severe weather,” they warned us. “Stay tuned.”

But I went to bed instead. There was no fun in it anymore.

Ever since Ike came through here a couple years ago, we’ve been pretty hard to impress. More

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