Well for anyone living in the Durham/Raleigh area - wtf.
What. The. Fuck.
Allow me to explain... Well before I explain, let me preface this post by providing a little disclaimer.
I have a phobia. One of bad things happening (I don't care what you say Google, it's a phobia!). We will call it badthingshappeningobia - let's shorten that to BTS (just go with it).
So, I have BTS. What is BTS, you ask?
BTS is this: I have this fear, however irrational it may seem, that bad things will occur at any given point in time. In my mind I make plans/strategies to counter the possibility of any given "bad thing" that might pop in my head as a way of coping. (It doesn't happen often, I promise.) For example, should an intruder enter my home [to, ya know, burgle me], I know the viable exit points in my home and I have an escape plan to counter that circumstance. My husband lovingly refers to my BTS as ridiculous.
I call it being prepared.
Well, now for the explanation!
Mike is away on business, and I have a hard time sleeping at night when he's away. Couple that with a new location and a new home with strange noises? Helloooo insomnia. I eventually get to that sweet spot - you know, when you are just about to drift off - when BAM! a crazy thunderstorm hits overhead. Then my phone goes nuts because the universe hates me and my BTS.
There's a tornado warning and my phone does flashy things and loud noises. In short at 5:20 am I was under a tornado warning. In my head, I'm screaming random things:
"Awwee hell nawww!"
"This is it! A week in our new home and I'm going to die."
"I'm in a night shirt with no bra..."
"How scandalous if I'm discovered ass up in wreckage during a rescue attempt?!"
"Do we even currently own a flashlight?"
"Oh crap, I should have grabbed shoes!"
"Should I risk grabbing my purse? Would they need ID during rescue?"
"What can I use as rope to secure these blankets over my feet in the event of walking over broken glass?"
"Oh god, am I wearing decent underwear?!"
You get the idea.
While my head was doing.... That, I was getting the obstinate dogs and a screaming cat to our basement per the instructions of a blaring inanimate object.
The dogs were not amused. I am ashamed to admit that after about a minute and a half of the cat screaming at the door in a very large, windowless room (the acoustics are fabulous and she should never be a singer), she was kicked out of the shelter due to my low tolerance. I reasoned to the dogs that she is still technically in the basement so her odds of surviving were still pretty good. I honestly think she could get scrappy if the situation called for it. Ember quickly fell in line after that because she knew she was next.
I was really only under the warning for a total of 15 minutes or so before the storm moved on. Mike was a trooper, talking me down and giving me storm updates as the time past till it was safe to reclaim the rest of the house again. He knows how my head works; sometimes better than I do. Moral of this little story is, build yourself a goddamn survival kit! Safety first boys and girls - an important lesson I learned in girl scouts. Here is a link with instructions, tips, and suggestions on building yourself your own emergency kit for your home.
May I make one small suggestion? Include a set of matching undergarments! Mine definitely will, among other things...
I hope that when I get too old for family to put up with me and I end up in a home or institution (hey, I'm being realistic here, after all) that I don't end up that sad type of paranoid crazy that people pity you for. I want to be the hilariously entertaining crazy; the kind that runs half naked down the hallway with a toilet paper crown yelling, "JELLYBEANS MOTHAFUCKA!"