Wicked, Wicked Weather!

 

 

 

The clouds above my office building are thick as molasses and churning in menacing circular pattern.  I’ve seen this kind of cloud activity before, but only on Storm Stories.  It puts a whole new perspective on the term “tornado warning” when it’s happening right above your head.  The thunder is continuous now, and sounds like the buffalo scene from Dances With Wolves, only the buffalo are stampeding just outside my windows and above my building. 

 

I’ve never seen a twister first hand.  I am hoping today is not the day I’ll see one.  I’m here alone in my office, waiting for the phone to ring, and waiting for the windows to come crashing in.  I have told my neighboring offices that if I spot a tornado from any of my windows (I’m situated on the third floor corner of an office building) they will briefly see my head pop in their door to shout “twister!” and then I will be gone, down the stairs, attaching myself to the bottom rung of the metal staircase in the stairwell. 

 

It’s 3:29 p.m. here in Houston, and on a normal day I can see sunshine for miles and miles.  When I look out my window today I see darkness, except for the flashes of lightening streaking across the sky in a blinding fury.  My husband just called and told me I should leave work early and try to get home.  Although I agree with him, I feel an obligation to remain where I am until the office closes.  I’m the Office Manager and feel it is my personal duty to remain on ship until the clock strikes five. 

 

The rumbling is unnerving. I’ve never heard it go on like this before, even when I lived in the Midwest and faced numerous tornadic thunderstorms.  Somehow being out in the open land,  as are the planes of the southwest, I feel more vulnerable.  There’s an electricity in the air.  I’ve often heard reports on Storm Stories of how the air somehow changes just before a twister strikes.  I hope I’m wrong.  I hope I’m only feeling paranoid and vulnerable because I’m alone and there’s a giant, gray, torrential monster outside my window.  It’s Mother Nature on PMS.  (I think she heard that; the lights just flickered.) 

 

Well, I’ll end this update and get it posted before I lose power or get a surge.  I’ll report back if and when I get out of this scary situation!

 

Until then,

 

Lori