I woke drowsily, the humidity and heat penetrating my slumber.
The house shook and the cats ran for cover and I screamed until Markus woke up.
Last night was the worst thunderstorm I have ever experienced. I was sure our little house (five stories high) would be toast. The doors were open because of the heat so the sound of cracking thunder RIGHT ABOVE our house was deafening. I have honestly never been so afraid of a natural phenomenon. Earthquakes are nothing to me. Lightning is so unpredictable and violent.
The worst part about this storm is that it set off my hair trigger panic/fear button. First was the fear of lightning itself. Gotta let that one go, right? Sure, when its sunny and clear out I have no problem in agreeing that fear of lightning is probably irrational even though the chances are 1 in 3000 you’ll be hit if you live to be 80. Sure, I can let it go until it WAKES ME UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKIN’ NIGHT!
I was sure, with our metal doors open, the lightning was going to just blast in and kill us. I had to shut the door, but didn’t want to go near the window for a couple of reasons. One, I didn’t want to touch metal or be near an opening with the GD storm in our backyard, literally. And two, I was wearing a very cute nightgown, lawn cotton, empire waist, satin ribbon, thin straps and mid-thigh in length. It’s really the perfect attire in which to be killed. And not by lightning.
Ever notice how many killers come out during a lightning storm, both corporeal and non-corporeal. Ever seen Poltergeist? Tell me that tree/Indian face did not freak you out. You know how it goes; girl goes to window and looks out at the brilliant storm. The face of a psycho killer from hell is illuminated when the lightning lights up the sky. Screams do not help our girl as the killer slowly stalks her, husband asleep, cats hiding. She runs into the living room only to see another killer or the same killer, she doesn’t know, on the balcony, illuminated by the sky yet again. The violent clapping of clouds emphasizes the violent end she will face. Every window now has a face. Only the bathroom seems safe until the lights flicker and Bloody Mary laughs from the mirror. Out the door she runs, into the rainy night. Rain pours all over our heroine as she runs and runs until she trips, her nightgown torn and muddy, her ankle broken, tears mixing with the rain. The killer slowly raises the axe…
So, you can see how I spent last night. I fell asleep around 4:30 when the sky lightened with the dawn.
I really ought to be medicated.