'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

tornado warning and a bad attitude

There was a little bit of flooding as I was driving home yesterday---somebody stalled out in water on Hill, where most of the rest of us then turned the hell around (while young people took selfies with water in the background).  No Lake Lisa in the front yard yet, nor flooding in the basement (though I'm glad I got that drain cleared), but it's going to rain for the next all-the-days-in-the-weather-app, so we'll see what happens.  There are pix of 1-94 at that low point with near-submerged vehicles (and perhaps some submerged ones).  And now there's a tornado watch.

I filled a plastic jug of water and know where the cat crates are.  No rotation so far, but 60mph winds not too far away.  Front's moving pretty quickly.   Looks like two major bands of storms.  The first slammer seems to be skirting to the north of us a little, in the last view I looked at.  Got out the CPAP battery of Bert's that Susan gave me and am charging it up.  Hadn't known he'd shelled out for one.  I guess I inherited it, sort of.  So weird.

Yesterday there was a little earthquake in Woodlawn, too (outside Baltimore).  They just had their locust plague, as well.

My side hustle today came to a halt when a wave of pique overcame me, that they didn't see a certain term as offensive enough as to clue it in a way that showed that awareness.  That's part of the service I'm providing, along with fellow panelists, but it suddenly felt gross, the arrangement, as the potential cover-their-ass representative of peoples who perspectives are still "other".  It's not quite Uncle Tomming, but it's something that suddenly gave me a sick feeling.  Not that I've been paid squat for it so far.  No small payments have come yet, on account of some backlog in credentialing on their end.  Reminds me of when we would wonder at the community college if we'd get our first payments for adjunct classes before midterm grades went in---cuz often, no, even with people who taught there every semester.

Some 19-year-old died yesterday trying to get the boat back to shore at the Jobbie Nooner--- a giant annual drunken boat party near Detroit that I'd never heard of until an episode of "Good Girls" I watched last night. 

There's some rotation up near Flint now.

Tornados are the original drop-everything for me.  The first alert.  The ur-emergency.

This morning I slept in rather than doing my home (Zoom) meeting.  Guess Zoom really makes a home meeting a home meeting.  Would I have a better attitude if I'd gone?  Who knows.   Probably doesn't help that I'm watching Breaking Bad again, and it's getting toward the really dark stuff.  And that's with me fast forwarding over the super-negelcted child and the part where Jessie tells a recovery group a just-as-bad version of what he's done by way of pushing back again the idea that it can still all be okay, or one should stop being so hard on oneself.

There's a way I've been getting a better gut feeling for how the OCD stuff is related to the anxiety things that seem less like counting things and lining up things and ritualizing things and needing things just-so.  High alert internally, and you don't always know you're doing it.

I think I've got sufficiently toned-down just-keeping-an-eye with this storm this evening, so far.  I haven't packed a go bag for flooding or put on long pants in case a basement collapses on me.  Of course I did think of those things, so I guess that's vigilance.  Just not following through on all the thoughts.

Once when Holly & I were getting ready to move away and Lee Ann was there as we packed kitchen stuff, she wanted to know which spatula (I think it was) to keep.  We'd not been a couple all that long, and one had been mine and one my partner's, and I stammered something about that, and Lee Ann's (chuckling) argument was "Lisa, if you two break up, you're going to have much worse problems than needing to get another spatula."

I caved on the spatula, although even then that argument didn't make any sense to me.  If I was going to have all the problems of a break-up, why guarantee that I'd need to buy a spatula on top of them?

As it turned out, we somehow kept two slotted spoons.  And when we split up, I ended up with both of them.  It was much more of a problem ending up stuff of hers I didn't want.

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