Donner und Blitzen
When my sister and I were in Kentucky, she kept demanding that she get to see a thunderstorm before we left. Not wanting to disappoint her, nature obliged. In spades. Instead of a thunderstorm, we got Noah-like rains as we drove down to Nashville. It was really a bad scene, with absolutely no visibility and constant radio warnings of the current location of the storm and the direction it was heading. Unsure of what to do, we pulled off the freeway and waited it out. We felt much better when, after pulling off, we say even locals had the same idea. It passed relatively quickly and we got on our way.
Last night, here in Elyria, OH, there was another thunderstorm. I had not, however, called it down from the heavens like she had done. Instead, I was fitfully sleeping in my hotel room when a long, bellowing rumble of thunder woke me up at 1:00am. This is bad, especially considering I had finally coaxed myself to sleep a half hour previously. The storm was not nearly as drenching as the one in Kentucky (at least it didn't seem so from my room), but it was loud. Mercy, was it ever loud.
This post, then, is to say this: Thunderstorms, you're on strike two. Keep your nose clean or else you're out. For good.
1 comments:
Remember when you slept in my apartment the first night I moved to Roosevelt because I was and still am a scaredy cat? I remember there was a big thunder storm and I was very disturbed by it but you stayed fast asleep on the floor. Lucky, or this would have been it's third strike. I still don't like thunder.
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