Mother Nature: Big Angry Bitch


As of this morning, I have new respect for people who have actually endured a hurricane; as part of the last gasps of Winter 2010, the Northeast is getting a rather severe little wave of weather events right about now, and where I live, that means rain and wind.  Mostly wind.  As in 60 mph gusts of wind last night.  Holy fuck.

Now, I realize that compared to the people who actually had some sort of experience with the real thing, with winds strong enough to blow you or the house or something the fuck away, my awe in the face of last night’s events here is probably at best a little quaint, and perhaps at worst infuriating to the point of strangulation.  Please, forgive me – I’ve got a limited well of life experience to draw from here, and so when I get weather events I have to ascribe them undue importance.  But, like I was saying, last night:

The weather report said 60 mph gusts were possible.  This led to no real action from me, save two candles lit in the bathroom and, just before bed, actually asking Marissa, “Do we own a flashlight?”  It was more than a little humorous, to be honest, to realize how overwhelmingly unprepared we are here at my house if there ever was actually some sort of weather-related emergency.  When the volcano erupts, friends, I have to tell you that it’s probably not going to be that leads the hearty band of scrappy survivors into the next iteration of human existence.  You’ll be able to spot me pretty easily – I’ll be the guy screeching miserably because his flesh has all been burned off by liquid magma.  Do me a favor in that instance and spot a brother a fire blanket or some ointment or something.

I can’t say at all what the actual speed of the wind was last night, but I know that we at least felt and heard something that sounded pretty fucking strong; all night we heard the drizzle of the rain transformed by the wind into machine gun chatter against the windows, the rattle of the glass in the frames, sirens blaring every few minutes from Central Avenue below us.  At one point I heard a tremendous bang from downstairs; thinking (totally irrationally) that  a power line had fallen over or that a window had broken, I rushed downstairs and looked out our kitchen window.  No power lines, of course, but all of the seven deck chairs outside of the apartment had been blown by the wind into a fascinatingly neat pile of furniture that was (and still is) lodged up against the door.

The wind advisory advertised by the weather service lasted only until 1 this morning, so I’m sure that the most dramatic activity ended sometime right around then, perhaps just after I managed to calm down, tell myself both that there was nothing to be done and nothing likely to really happen.  And as I write this, sitting at my kitchen table by the window, there sounds like there’s no wind at all, and the rain has totally stopped, and there’s a sliver of blue sky visible in the bank of clouds hanging over Dover.


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