Weather Pornography

That's what dh called it - weather pornography. At midnight, I watched the long, red, bloody line of storms move ever closer last night, waiting for the moment that I might have to raise the dead (sleeping) and move them all to the basement. The weathermen were in their glory, even referring to the high winds as "fine winds" and "terrific storms". The excitement in their voices, their enjoyment of the event, was palpable.

The line moved across the radar screen heading straight for us as the weathermen frothed at the mouth, spittle flying as they warned people to the basement. As often is the case, the storm moved through our county in five minutes in an anti-climactic way. There is something about the topography here and the proximity to the river that seems to kill the storms. We do occasionally get very bad weather, but south of us - they get the worst of it repeatedly. Makes one kind of wonder why they stay there.

While appreciating the ability to see the storm coming if it indeed is tornadic, the fever pitch did ruin the enjoyment of laying in bed in the dark listening to a perfectly good thunderstorm. I'm going to be tired today.