I have the luck of the Cherokee because it’s damned sure not the Irish
May 24, 2011 4 Comments
At just before 5 a.m. this morning, as I lay sleepless in my bed listening to two puppies scream at the unfairness of being crated, I watched a lightning storm move in. Watching lightning snake across the night sky is actually kind of cool as the patterns are endless and if I was still young enough to be able to manage chemical joy, this would be prime time to drop acid. Sadly, the days of treating my body like an amusement park are long past. At 4:57 a.m. the night sky turned neon blue and the fan I had running to dull the puppy noise ceased working. There went the sub-station and with it, the power and my beloved air conditioning. At 4:58 a.m., the hail started to hit the house and I decided to get up. The trees were twisting violently in the wind and I could hear the sounds of wood breaking. I debated heading for the basement, but by the time I was ready to go, the wind let up. As quickly as it came, the storm passed by. I pretended to go back to sleep, but sometimes, you’re just kind of fucked and you might as well get up.
With the rising of the sun, I stepped outside with two very bad puppies and took stock of the back yard. Some limbs down, lots of leaves everywhere. I took the puppies inside. Still no power. Getting dressed without being able to see is kind of a trick. I settled on a white t-shirt, leggings and Tevas. Sure, that seems a bit dressed down for a law office and I pretty much look homeless, but fuck it. I packed up the laptop, grabbed the cell phone and told Troy I was heading to work. I opened the front door and was greeted with this scene:
Down the street, it looks like this:
I should be more upset for my neighbor, but there’s a tree on my car y’all:
Why is it that my car had to get hit? Had I pulled up five more feet or parked back five feet, the tree would have missed. This is either supremely bad luck or the just reward for my hubris. Sure, I’m really sad that my neighbor’s car and house down the street are smashed, but my paint is scratched.
I have no power and won’t for some time. Sweating at night is in my future which I loathe. The refrigerator is full of things that are going to go bad. There’s a chocolate silk pie in there. I put it in the cooler with some ice. Troy put his six pack of Heineken in the cooler. Men have fucked up priorities. You can always swill liquor warm, but a chocolate silk pie melting is a tragedy.