Thursday, June 26, 2008

Napping Through the War

Last night, the explosion that I always fear will ring out in the night ripped through my bedroom. It was just before midnight that I found myself sitting straight up in bed, trying to figure out why a bomb had just gone off in my bedroom when I heard the tornado sirens begin to wind out. Our bedroom strobed with lightening. I rolled over and looked at Jen in the brief flashes that revealed her to still be sleeping soundly. No way can she sleep through this. Just then, thunder crashed overhead sounding like the house next door was ripped in two. Jen's brow furrowed in the brief punches of bright light, then relaxed as she slipped back into sleep.

Seriously? How is this possible?

I got up, convinced there would be four funnel clouds over our house. I spent the next hour and a half listening to the explosions, marveling at the nonstop barrage of lightening, and watching Cool Hand Luke while flipping back to the news from time to time to check the position of the storm. At 12:30 the tornado warnings expired, but the sirens still wailed intermittently. The news explained the county was having technical difficulties and were trying to get them shut down for the night. I still got a feeling of dread every time they whined there way through the house.

The news said that over the course of one hour, the city experienced over 7000 flashes of lightening. Who the hell verifies that? What kind of life is that when you have to roll out of bed for every thunderstorm saying "Time to count the lightening" to your spouse as you head out the door? Is there a team of people sitting around weather instruments and an abacus? I realize that it's most likely a computer program that analyzes the storm or something like that, but that's not nearly as funny to picture. In my mind, it will always be some douchebag in a slicker on a hilltop with a pen and piece of paper, counting each explosion while praying he's not killed.

No comments: