Observations on a Birthday
ETA - this was about the 24th, lol
Where I live, we get ice storms and blizzards on a regular basis, as well as the odd hurricane (those not so much, though). I love a good thunderstorm as much as the next psychopath but 36 hours straight of them directly over my house do eventually wear thin especially with two termite hollowed out forty foot trees I have yet to manage to get anyone to come out and take down. Oh, and the trees in front of the house that National Grid was supposed to trim last summer but have yet to get around to which will not only take out the power lines but rip them out of the house. I have come to the conclusion that we're each waiting for the other to blink on this one.
Today was supposed to be dicey so I got up early (okay, so I never really went to bed because the house had been shaking) and made some food in case the power went out. Translation: I drank a pot of coffee and ate a piece of toast while Duncan the Wonder Dog looked between me and the refrigerator with a thought bubble over his head that read "If the power goes out, I have a pretty good chance at that manicotti in there that she still hasn't eaten in a week.".
The rain was interesting and the wind less so as I debated doing some heavy duty computer maintenance (nay was winning as I have never found it a good idea to root around in the registry while the power bounces up and down no matter the warranty on the power supply)so I said screw it as I watched a boatload of Top Gear and trolled the internet for decent TW fic. My office at home has large windows looking out onto my deck which is spectacularly grown over by trees (see above where I note that I can't get anyone to schedule coming out here to deal with it and they aren't even my trees - well except for the dwarf fruit trees that are thirty feet high and isn't it just sad when your own landscaping mocks you) and I suddenly hear louder whooshing than usual and notice the trees are nearly horizontal.
I generally check the weather from time to time (not that I believe the prats - I just want to see the radar) so it's noon and I turn on local wx by which I am told to get my ass down into the basement immediately. As in fifteen minutes ago. I drop the shades on the big windows, grab the battery radio, my cell (because yeah, the cell towers around here are so reliable on a sunny day) my ipod (hey, if I'm going to be taking a wild ride out of Kansas I want to pick the inflight movie), my laptop and Duncan the Wonder Dog who, while a spoiled brat, knows to obey The Voice and head to the first floor.
We spend some time down there as the really nasty tstorms crash overhead and the news stations keep talking about rotation in the storms. Finally, my particular area gets a tentative clear as the poor bastards a bit further north catch it in the neck. Dunc and I head upstairs - still pouring, wind not quite so bad but it's been up and down for over a day - and then the sun comes out.
I tried explaining to a neighbor that sun on days like these is a bad thing - might as well have been talking to Lamb Chop. Or a less colorful sweat sock.
We go back to the ratty assed day, not the spectacularly potentially life threatening day and I am watching the news when my cell rings. My sister. She tells me she's going to be in my driveway in a minute. Now it's been monsoon time here all day. Seriously bad, never mind the tornado warning. And, of course, it's now sunny out.
I head down out through my (of course now waterlogged) garage and she pulls up. With four bundles of flowers in her back seat. For me.
We won't go into how funny this is - if you know me, you can just guess. If you don't, assume surrealism of epic proportions.
I look at her and say, "You do realize that there was a tornado warning just out, right?"
"No, you're kidding."
Because that Josh Groban cd really does trump real time weather when you're driving through flooded streets in beyond heavy rain. She obviously takes after my father who used to throw the dog into the back of his station wagon and drive around town when we were flooded out to see if he could get across flooded roads and no, I am not kidding.
You people have no idea. I am this way for a reason, I tell you!
So.
The flowers.
Big bundles. Big.
Now I like exotics, but I also like glads. Yes, funeral flowers, get over it. So here I am, trying to maneuver into the house with four bundles of glads. Duncan the Wonder Dog is doing the Happy Dog Hoppy Dance because, yay, he just thinks breathing in and out is the Best Thing Ever and anything over that is just gravy.
Each bundle is about two feet long ( I take it back, they're just under three feet long after I cut them down by about three inches, sigh) and I get them up into the kitchen and try to keep the stems wet in the sink but hello, long flowers, not working. I go back down into the makeshift bunker of doom (aka downstairs) and grab four tall vases and stick them in there for the moment. For the moment means that I really don't care to be cutting all those stems.
Storms return, poor bloody Epsom. We don't do this type of thing here.
Weather eventually calms down here, electricity stabilizes, Duncan eats and finally goes out, I check for water damage and figure, okay, since it's been about three hours sleep in two days, time to crash. I put the tv on in my bedroom, I'm out within five minutes.
Dunc's sacked out on me, I'm starting to blissfully drool on my pillows when my phone rings.
It's my sister.
"Did you count the flowers?"
Some days my life is just one big what the fuck.