abbott and costello weather the weather
Yesterday we had some storms. And some wind. And some hail. And some trees falling over. And, as it turns out, some tornadoes. That last isn't confirmed, but the wrecked places around here sure as hell look like tornado damage, and it sounded like one too.
Here's how it went down at my house: I'd gone to the back room (which is all windows) to look out the back door (which is also all windows) at a bunch of very large trees whipping around excitingly in the rain which was blowing horizontal and so heavy it was a whiteout. Or, maybe, a grey-out. I hadn't had coffee yet, so I stood there at the window and watched, and listened to the FWEEEEOOOOFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHEEEEEEEE noises.
After a while I realized this might not be such a good idea, so I went into the kitchen to make my coffee. Because: okay, there's a giant storm that is not a hurricane, this is probably bad, but right now I have power and thus I am making my damn coffee. This is where my life turned into a vaudeville routine.
My mother is in the living room watching television. I shout, from the kitchen: "MA? CAN YOU CHECK THE WEATHER?"
I hear footsteps. Thump thump step thump.
I hear a creak, like the front door opening.
Then I hear wind: FFFFWWWWWHHHEEEEEEIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEESSSSHHHHHHHHH
Then I hear the door slam.
"IT'S REALLY BAD OUT," she tells me.
The coffeemaker is percolating very slowly. The cats are howling. The dog is whimpering. I need a moment.
"MA," I finally tell her, "I MEANT CHECK ON THE TV!"
At some point four of my trees fell over, but I didn't get to see that. They didn't break anything when they came down, and they didn't snap - just got knocked over, with the root balls popped out of the ground. So now I have to disassemble those, because I don't think I can tilt them upright and have them quickly re-root themselves.
See, this is how Floridians roll. Hurricane: whatever. We get tons of warning. We stock up on Gatorade and D batteries and bleach (nobody knows what the D batteries are for, but by god we have them) and tins of tuna and Spaghetti-Ohs. Wake me up if it gets above category two.
One little tornado, however? Mass panic, and then an excited bunch of witnesses on the local news.
It's not a fit night out for man nor beast!
Here's how it went down at my house: I'd gone to the back room (which is all windows) to look out the back door (which is also all windows) at a bunch of very large trees whipping around excitingly in the rain which was blowing horizontal and so heavy it was a whiteout. Or, maybe, a grey-out. I hadn't had coffee yet, so I stood there at the window and watched, and listened to the FWEEEEOOOOFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHEEEEEEEE noises.
After a while I realized this might not be such a good idea, so I went into the kitchen to make my coffee. Because: okay, there's a giant storm that is not a hurricane, this is probably bad, but right now I have power and thus I am making my damn coffee. This is where my life turned into a vaudeville routine.
My mother is in the living room watching television. I shout, from the kitchen: "MA? CAN YOU CHECK THE WEATHER?"
I hear footsteps. Thump thump step thump.
I hear a creak, like the front door opening.
Then I hear wind: FFFFWWWWWHHHEEEEEEIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEESSSSHHHHHHHHH
Then I hear the door slam.
"IT'S REALLY BAD OUT," she tells me.
The coffeemaker is percolating very slowly. The cats are howling. The dog is whimpering. I need a moment.
"MA," I finally tell her, "I MEANT CHECK ON THE TV!"
At some point four of my trees fell over, but I didn't get to see that. They didn't break anything when they came down, and they didn't snap - just got knocked over, with the root balls popped out of the ground. So now I have to disassemble those, because I don't think I can tilt them upright and have them quickly re-root themselves.
See, this is how Floridians roll. Hurricane: whatever. We get tons of warning. We stock up on Gatorade and D batteries and bleach (nobody knows what the D batteries are for, but by god we have them) and tins of tuna and Spaghetti-Ohs. Wake me up if it gets above category two.
One little tornado, however? Mass panic, and then an excited bunch of witnesses on the local news.
It's not a fit night out for man nor beast!