I woke up at 11:45 to the sound of Hilliard’s tornado siren – something that’s always annoying, but greatly preferred over the potential alternative of waking up to a tornado showering you in broken class and neighborhood refuse. I started to turn on the radio, then thought maybe that was a terrible idea since my bedroom is on the second floor. I unplugged the radio instead, and hurried downstairs to grab my wallet, phone, and keys.
Halfway down the basement steps the siren was ending its cycle but the thunder and lightning would have none of that quitter’s attitude. Fortunately my flashlight was sitting out in the living room from yesterday’s surround sound wiring adventures, and I found room for that in my hands, all the while expecting tree limbs and cattle to come bursting in from all sides. “Why would you turn around for the flashlight?!”, the audience moans. Good thing I don’t live in a big-budget action film.
Short story shorter, there was a sound in the basement I did not ever want to hear: dripping. One of the entry points for what looks like a Brinks wire is also an entry point for water. Doggone it. In the basement CD101 will only come in audibly if I hold the radio, which I realize is probably unacceptable as I’m standing there in a horrendous thunderstorm holding a wired electronic device next to my face. Now that I’m about to go back to bed I can see that the leak downstairs is a result of the north side of the house getting freakin’ steamrolled with rain. This is no consolation.
Man. I thought the worst of the storm was past here 20 minutes ago, but the foundation-rattling thunder just keeps keepin’ on. So much for a good night’s sleep. Is that hail? Delightful.
