Storm-sickness
The weather is in a real, funky pattern these days in the Bluegrass, and I don't mind admitting that I dislike it immensely. So much so, that I'm willing to put it in all caps ... DISLIKE. There. I did it.
The pattern? We get two or three days of lovely weather, if not overly warm, and then we get walloped with a storm system that brings a cold front, just in time for another warm up for two or three days and then a wallop that drags with it a cold front, just in time for another warm up for two or three days ...
Do I sound like a broken record?
Hey! Do you know that most people that are younger than me don't know what the figure of speech sounding like a broken record even means?
That is so sad.
My sister and I both had record players and plenty of records growing up. I had a Winnie the Pooh record player. Hers was, of course, Strawberry Shortcake. Girl had a thing for Miss Shortcake.
Anyway, we'd get so excited about ripping a record off and replacing it with another one, that we'd rake the player needle over the record, subsequently scratching it, and pretty much ensuring that it would skip on those one set of lyrics every single time you played the record from then on ... usually, your favorite song.
I know, I know. Some of you are sitting in front of your computers, reading these words, and you're thinking, "Dang it! I gotta google this RECORD PLAYER thing. Sounds like something a cave man used!"
So, yeah ... our weather.
Let's just say, it has sucked every fourth day or so for about a month and a half. Not as bad as the weather system that ripped through North Carolina, mind you, but it has had it's own brand of suckage. Let's just say that.
For days leading up to last night, the weather folks have been yapping about this volatile storm system to the point that it actually sounded akin to the Apocalypse or something.
You know, what I've come to realize? When a weather person yaps and yaps, the weather system is gonna be all talk and no show. It's the quiet ones you've got to worry about.
At any rate, they'd been yapping about it, and I must admit, I started getting a little nervous as my head began banging a good deal ahead of when the storm was suppose to hit ... inconveniently, in the middle of the night, when weather-phobes like me will not be able to properly fret and stew about it, inevitably working themselves up into a good lather.
Like a brilliant, first-rate brain surgeon, I went to bed without taking any medicine for my full-blown migraine, and I ended up tossing and turning with the violent headache until the time that the wind starting howling across my house like a freakin' freight train. It was at that point that I decided to check the weather, discovered that we did, in fact, have a weather situation on our hands, and then grabbed my supplies to head to the basement.
Seriously, I need to create a kit and set up a cot down there. It's getting to be that much of a pain. Even the cat sighed like my fourth graders do when I assign homework, as I dragged her down the steps. She was misinterpreting the middle-of-the-night-wake-up as a chance to play with me.
I won't bore you with the details ... like the detail where I got down to the basement and realized that I needed to use the bathroom -- during the height of the storm. Quite a moral dilemma there, folks. Should I stay down in the basement so the rescue workers can find me in my own puddle of urine? Or should I brave the second floor and get sucked up in the vortex of the storm while sitting on the great, white throne? Neither way is the best way to go, I've decided ... both have a certain amount of cons involved.
Yeah, I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that I racked up MAYBE two and a half hours of sleep, and that I am so ready for a nap that I have no clue what any of this blog is really about. So, when I leave school this afternoon, I am making a bee line to my bed, and I swear that if ANY ONE calls me and wakes me up from my nap, I will hunt them down and make them wish that those 80 mph winds had, in fact, made their way to our town last night.
The pattern? We get two or three days of lovely weather, if not overly warm, and then we get walloped with a storm system that brings a cold front, just in time for another warm up for two or three days and then a wallop that drags with it a cold front, just in time for another warm up for two or three days ...
Do I sound like a broken record?
Hey! Do you know that most people that are younger than me don't know what the figure of speech sounding like a broken record even means?
That is so sad.
My sister and I both had record players and plenty of records growing up. I had a Winnie the Pooh record player. Hers was, of course, Strawberry Shortcake. Girl had a thing for Miss Shortcake.
Anyway, we'd get so excited about ripping a record off and replacing it with another one, that we'd rake the player needle over the record, subsequently scratching it, and pretty much ensuring that it would skip on those one set of lyrics every single time you played the record from then on ... usually, your favorite song.
I know, I know. Some of you are sitting in front of your computers, reading these words, and you're thinking, "Dang it! I gotta google this RECORD PLAYER thing. Sounds like something a cave man used!"
So, yeah ... our weather.
Let's just say, it has sucked every fourth day or so for about a month and a half. Not as bad as the weather system that ripped through North Carolina, mind you, but it has had it's own brand of suckage. Let's just say that.
For days leading up to last night, the weather folks have been yapping about this volatile storm system to the point that it actually sounded akin to the Apocalypse or something.
You know, what I've come to realize? When a weather person yaps and yaps, the weather system is gonna be all talk and no show. It's the quiet ones you've got to worry about.
At any rate, they'd been yapping about it, and I must admit, I started getting a little nervous as my head began banging a good deal ahead of when the storm was suppose to hit ... inconveniently, in the middle of the night, when weather-phobes like me will not be able to properly fret and stew about it, inevitably working themselves up into a good lather.
Like a brilliant, first-rate brain surgeon, I went to bed without taking any medicine for my full-blown migraine, and I ended up tossing and turning with the violent headache until the time that the wind starting howling across my house like a freakin' freight train. It was at that point that I decided to check the weather, discovered that we did, in fact, have a weather situation on our hands, and then grabbed my supplies to head to the basement.
Seriously, I need to create a kit and set up a cot down there. It's getting to be that much of a pain. Even the cat sighed like my fourth graders do when I assign homework, as I dragged her down the steps. She was misinterpreting the middle-of-the-night-wake-up as a chance to play with me.
I won't bore you with the details ... like the detail where I got down to the basement and realized that I needed to use the bathroom -- during the height of the storm. Quite a moral dilemma there, folks. Should I stay down in the basement so the rescue workers can find me in my own puddle of urine? Or should I brave the second floor and get sucked up in the vortex of the storm while sitting on the great, white throne? Neither way is the best way to go, I've decided ... both have a certain amount of cons involved.
Yeah, I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that I racked up MAYBE two and a half hours of sleep, and that I am so ready for a nap that I have no clue what any of this blog is really about. So, when I leave school this afternoon, I am making a bee line to my bed, and I swear that if ANY ONE calls me and wakes me up from my nap, I will hunt them down and make them wish that those 80 mph winds had, in fact, made their way to our town last night.
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