So last night was the first time I have heard tornado sirens go off in the city. If I don't ever hear them again, I'm ok with that. My television viewing was interrupted five different times with warnings that got progressively more ominous. First, severe weather was heading for "southern Cook County", then it was "moving closer to the city", until finally it was going to hit Montrose harbor (= not far from our place) in ten minutes. I've practiced panicking throughout my entire life, and I'm a pro at it. I calmly got up and turned off the TV. I then opened the window to confirm that all those sirens I was hearing were real (and presumably not caused by a slowly growing tumor in my head. You all know I also have cancer panic, yes?). Sure enough, they were real. So then I closed the window, and casually walked to P's office. He was inside practicing for a presentation.
*soft knock* "Paul? The TV just said that the storm is going to hit Montrose harbor soon, and I think I heard sirens." (See how I tempered my response to keep myself calm? "I think I heard sirens.")
So P came out and gawked at the clouds for about five minutes. While he was distracted, I casually loaded Sheila into her carrier. I tried to get Cole in his carrier by myself, but he would have none of it. By this time, P realized what I was doing and came to help. That's when I really started to panic. P normally laughs off my illogical fears, but we were clearly on the same page. We finally got Cole loaded into his carrier, and then we headed down the back steps to the basement.
The cats were instantly wet, and started yowling. We were only in the basement for like five minutes. Well, I should say I was only in the basement for five minutes. P was gawking at the weather again. When we got back upstairs, we quickly realized P had locked the back door (as if someone was going to rob us in the downpour). I made him go around to the front.
After we got inside, I refused to let the cats out of their carriers "just in case", but they were clearly traumatized. When I finally let them out, I discovered that Cole had left a little surprise in his carrier. I call it "squeeging" and it only happens when he's extremely scared. He liquid poops on himself, and it smells like death. So, I got to clean his carrier and give a scared cat a bath.
Also, I should note that we were the only people in our building to go to the basement. We are on the third (top) floor. Right below our unit is a family with a newborn baby. Below them, a family with two kids. And I know we weren't just overreacting, because a woman at work said a 100 year old tree in her yard put a giant hole through her roof when she was huddled in her basement with her family.
4 comments:
Glad you made it through. Perhaps if you did act as scared as you were, you wouldn't have that panic cancer growing deep, deep inside your gut. (I have experience dealing with you N boys). (OK, that sounds bad, it's a last name initial, people, lol!).
On the topic of tornados, does anyone remember the books about a farming family that lived in the mid-west and they grew enormous veggies, and often had to go underground to avoid tornados? I LOVED those stories/books, and want to get them, but can't remember what they were. I want to say their name was Mc-something.
I remember when I was maybe 11 and D was 4 or 5 and Dad took us all to the basement in the middle of the night due to tornados in the area. I didn't even wake up until I was in the basement. There I was in my tighty whiteys and nothing else starring at Mom, Dad, and David.
... and them staring back at you.
sigh...yes...shiver
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