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Tempest Chronicles Day 46
It’s just about as close as it can get outside. The air is so very very very heavy that each inhale reminds me of the time I got stuck in a puddle in my 1976 Mustang while it was raining so hard that I had to get out of the car and walk to someone’s house to call my father to come pull me to safety. That was when people would let you use their LAND LINE. Can you imagine?
The car had to be flushed and drained and dried. For weeks the inside would form a foul swampy smelling condensation on the windows that let every passenger know that mildew was imminent. I shudder at the thought to this day.
Adding to the closeness is the fact that there is a dearth of wind, The Greek God of breezes, Aeolus, has completely fallen asleep on the job and has turned us over to the heat.
When we get across the rainbow and to the river overlook, the Mississippi is moving about as fast as an overturned case of Mrs. Butterworth’s under the Christmas tree. There’s a faint hint of burning petrochemical coming from the tugs and not a blossom of jasmine or gardenia to be found so it’s an assault on our entire decency.
The exciting thing from the world of weather (according to all the meteorological powers that be, not just the weathergays) is that we are returning to the usual pattern of summertime and there will be way less rain and way more heat. I broke down in tears at the high nineties forecast for the next 10 days, calling everyone I knew in the federal government to determine the status of my FEMA claim.
I guess it’s time to start my usual summer daily routine of checking the National Hurricane Center for potential causes of my death, especially since there was some cotton headed ninny on TV yesterday with a list of days and when storms could be formed.
Instead of actually having the agreed upon name of the storms, the doe eyed psychopath had a list of what she believed to be the weather for the week: July 17 “B” name storm forms, July 19 “C” name storm forms, July 22 “D” name storm forms. She obviously didn’t want to commit to anything past July 22 because I suspect she’s some sort of renegade princess of atmospheric pressure and she still wants someone to buy her a cosmo when she orders lunch.
To calm my fears I immediately opened up NHC.NOAA.GOV expecting to see the entire Atlantic Ocean covered in primary colored bold X’s indicating that the rapture was near. What I found was still the yellow kidney shaped mass covering mid to north Florida (excluding the panhandle) extending all the way to the border of North and South Carolina.
An additional yellow X is about a half inch off the coast of Africa just sitting out there trying to decide what to destroy.
That’s it…….
By the time I got past my initial anger at this climatic hag, I felt a sense of relief that perhaps it wasn’t time to start packing up the dogs and heading for higher ground. Girlfriend was just doing her job.
Isn’t that what I want? Everyone to do their job? I had to use a few hours of my day off yesterday to try and find a new dishwasher. (Note to self: Don’t make hiring decisions after you’ve had a couple of liters of German beer)
Of the 20 “invites” I sent out to potential candidates, I got 4 responses. Of the 4 responses, the third applicant was either extremely nervous or extremely high or both. He was so very distracted by the various renditions of Mona Lisa on the wall that I had to keep repeating simple things like; “Why did you leave your last job?” or “Where do you live?”
Instead of giving me an answer, he would say something to the effect of: “Where y’all get all them pictures?” and “I like to be around beautiful things, so I think I would work well here.”
What am I supposed to do with that? Argue? Instead I just nodded and quickly got to the part where I ask “Do you have any questions for me?”
I’ll keep you posted on the progression.
In real time, however Tom has just told me that they are reporting that some sort of hurricane tracking satellite has crashed to earth and is not reporting any data at this time. If the national hurricane center starts tuning into the previously mentioned reactionary skank of the storms, for informing the masses of upcoming whirlygigs, I may start employing the applicant’s coping mechanism for the remainder of the season myself.
“All them giant X’s on the map have such vibrant colors.” will be my code for complete resignation to the overpowering approaching ignorance.
I’ll keep you posted on that one as well.
Vitals: 83 degrees with a 2 MPH (lie) and an 86% humidity makes it feel like you somehow got trapped in your mama’s unplugged deep freeze AFTER the power went out.
45 days down……
138 days to go……..