My house was a-rockin' last night. So glad that none of you came a-knockin'. Because you might have been whirled away in the Wizard-of-Oz-class maelstrom that beset Backroads around 2:30 a.m.
I awoke in my trusty basement recliner, none the worse for wear after a 3.5 hour nap, to the sound of wind, thunder, rain, and unknown particles smashing into the front of the house. I'm glad the power did not go out, or I might have been disoriented. My TV went off. I suppose Dish Network will claim that their product does work in a tornado, and that we simply need to trim some limbs.
This morning, I expected to see some limbs down in the fields, and maybe some flappy roofs. But no. My route was relatively devoid of debris. Hick, however, had to backtrack. A whole tree blocked his Backroads back road. The local game warden, who lives in our area, had stopped traffic to deter accidents.
I do not like those dark storms. The sleepytime storms. I don't want to stay up all night waiting for my demise. Hick simply goes to bed as normal. As do the boys. But I'm the worry wart. I watch the chief meteorologists until the cows come home, enjoy a light supper, soak in a bubble bath, powder themselves, slip into flannel jammies, and hit the hay. Except for last night. I did not watch the forecast. Last I heard, we were getting thunderstorms after nine. And that was all.
So...I did not pack up my shelter necessities, those being cash, medication, and my flash drives. I did not have the metal door to the safe room propped open, ready to round up my men upstairs should doom appear on the horizon. We were sorely unprepared.
Which will not happen again this spring.