I hate summer storms. Let’s be perfectly clear about this. I hate them. I know there is a whole group of people out there who love them. They love the way the rain refreshes the earth and breaks up the humidity while the gentle roll of thunder can be heard in the distance. Children grab rain boots and umbrellas and splash in puddles. Mom puts up her feet on the porch and reads a book. Yeah, I like those storms, too, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about severe thunderstorms. The kind that cause watches and warnings to be issued. The kind which are capable of producing strong winds, hail and tornadoes. Tornadoes terrify me. I live in a house with no basement, that is rumored to have no foundation and whose only interior room is a 3 foot by 3 foot bathroom.
The threat of severe weather puts my stomach into knots. I fret and pace and monitor the weather channel. I become crabby and tense. I may even round up shoes, my purse and some blankets and put them in the hallway next to bathroom in case we need to take cover. I try to talk myself back from the edge, telling myself that while our area does get frequent, often daily, severe thunderstorms that may cause some damage, and that tornadoes are possible, they are very rare here. And the one or two that have touched down in the DC Metro area have been small and short. Mostly. In the 5 total years we’ve lived here, we have not once ever gone to an actual tornado warning. But still, I worry.
Our forecast will hold the possibility of thunderstorms almost every day until the mid-Fall. It’s hard for me to relax and make plans to be away from the house, knowing that at any moment the weather is going to go to hell in a hand-basket. Yes, these are anxious days for me. Time to lay in a supply of chocolate.
note: As soon as I finished this blog post, the weather alert on my computer informed me that we are now under a tornado watch until 8 pm. That’s 7 hours for me to worry about. Lovely.