You may recall we had some inclement weather about a month ago? Well, if you don’t, lemme tell you, IT WAS A TORNADO. I heard the tornado and so did my neighbors and one of them even saw it. Unfortunately, no one ‘official’ enough reported it, so it doesn’t count.
But it was a tornado.
All evening they talked about storms. Well, psh. IT WAS A TORNADO.
I’m sorta sensitive about this, because I don’t feel that I’ve been adequately validated about my recent tornado experience. This has led me to be more sensitive to other people’s tornado experiences, but other than that, I’m just pissy that The National Weather Service won’t back me up.
I take comfort in the fact that MIL, Benson, and my neighbors all believe IT WAS A TORNADO. The rest of the people, well, I reckon they think I’m bein dramatic.
IT WAS A TORNADO.
On the day it happened, I asked The Mister, “You see that big ol limb on the side of our house?”
“Of course I saw it.”
“I can’t lift it. Might take both of us. Maybe even three of us.”
About a week later, the boy one cut the grass and he said, “I couldn’t move that big limb on the side of the yard, so I mowed around it as well as I could.”
I said, “Thank you,” and looking at my husband I added, “We really gotta get it out before the weather turns.”
I am the long-term worrier. It goes with anxiety disorder.
He is a procrastinator. It goes with the ADD.
While I’m thinkin bout how the limb will provide shelter for critters, how I don’t want critters burrowing beside the house, particularly next to Moo’s room, oh how the dog would bark, how awful it would be to have a family of vicious possum freaking out, or how traumatizing it might be for a family of bunnies to lose their warren, The Mister thinks things more like, “Meh. It’s 90 degrees. I got plenty of time before the weather turns.”
Somewhere on my husband’s calendar is a section called When Hell Freezes Over, and I presume he’s got quite a bit to do then.
That same bastard turned to me in bed just the other night and asked me, “Did you see the size of that branch on the side of the house?”
After I plucked my eyeballs from the ceiling and put them back in my head, I replied.
“Yes I saw it! I asked you that the day it happened!”
“I didn’t know you meant that. Do you know which tree it came from?”
“I assume it came from the one back here. Nearest maple. Not our tree, so we can toss it over instead of carrying it to the back forty.”
“Yeah, but look how far it traveled.”
“I KNOW. IT. WAS. A. TORNADO.”
“Baby, why do you keep sayin that? I believe you, okay? It was a tornado.”
“Well it might be because I suspect you’re not really listening to me.”
Like, especially the part where I’d said I heard the roar of the tornado, seen nothin but sideways rain and sticks out the window, put on pants and climbed into Moo’s closet and held my dog while the house rattled, and I heard things hitting the house, and it was the antenna and the tree limbs and the hammock and all the chairs…I said all that. I did. I said how lucky we were none of it broke through the windows or tore the siding. I said he should go up and look at the roof. I did say all these things.
Y’all know he hasn’t been up on that roof. Y’all know if there’s a shingle issue, it’s bound to lead to a leak right over my head in bed, drippin on my precious fuckin pillows.
Happy Friday Everyone!