Twisting the night away

Some folks might think spring starts at the vernal equinox; others might need to see the first robin. Where I am right now, it doesn’t feel like spring until the tornado siren has sent us to the basement, which it did last night.

The advantage of having two cats who follow me around like dogs is that they didn’t need any coaxing; they trotted right down the stairs after me. It didn’t hurt that I’d grabbed the kitty treats to keep them entertained. Once we were all in the bathroom, though, I’d started wishing I’d grabbed some momma treats, too, namely my book and the open bottle of sauvignon blanc.

The tornado didn’t come that close, so it ended well for us. It wasn’t even that unnerving. As a native Midwesterner, I’ll take a twister over a lot of other natural disasters. Earthquakes? Too unpredictable. Hurricanes? There’s the question of should I stay or should I go. (Also, our house in coastal Georgia didn’t have a basement, which made me nervous as all get out.) But with a tornado, it’s pretty simple: Get to the lowest point, away from windows, and don’t come out until the all-clear. Either the top of your house is torn off or it isn’t.

Since the forecast is for more of the same today, it’s time for me to prepare. Stashing a flask of bourbon in the bathtub might be evidence of a drinking problem to some, but for me it’s just another sign of spring.