It was raining. . . it was pouring. . .

but the old man certainly wasn't snoring.

Readers of this here site already know that I am not a fan of storms. I am afraid of three things: storms, falling on concrete and being found out as the fool that I really am.

I had been prepping all day for the onslought of storms that were sure to (and certainly did) rock our region. The moment red appeared on the radar and the announcer started talking about straight line winds and circular motions, I went into survival mode, gathering every available flash light, radio and snack within reach. I gazed upon my pile of equipment and was proud that my OCD was good for something: keeping us alive and informed.

Cynical who is typically not home during these storm preparedness exercises watched in amazement and horror as I rushed around checking batteries, putting on my running shoes* and worrying myself into a frenzy. (*Not that I planned to outrun the storm, but I certainly didn't want to trot down into the basement in my bare feet. It's nasty down there.)

First we heard the wind whipping around the house, next the thuds of heavy raindrops and hail smacking our windows and a peek out the window revealed nothing: the wind and rain were blowing so hard that we couldn't even see our car only a few feet away. Blip. . . blip and we were without power. Being the electricity junkies that we are, we knew we wouldn't last long between fixes.

Battery-operated radio in hand I listened for news of the outside world. Was this Armaggedon, was anybody out there?

Cynical and I did a quick check of the house, a pool of water on our landing caused us some concern, but whenever we didn't see any gushing going on, we grabbed some towels and made the best of it. (Seems the wind blew so furiously that it pushed rain under our shingles and into the house. It was blowing that hard folks.)

My job requires me to be activated during times such as these, so I grabbed my notebook, a flashlight, my cell phone,my purse and umbrella and hit the road, worrying that I would be dodging downed trees and stalled cars. Once I left our neighborhood, however, it was fairly clear, with only two detours in my path. Grateful it wasn't worse, I made my way to the office and down to business.

I ventured home some time after 11 p.m. glad that it wasn't worse, happy to see the lights on and ready to get some sleep. Toiling and worrying and working all night takes a lot out of a girl. When I arrived I found Cynical happy to have his television back up and running, tired and ready for sleep as well.

In Chez Ragged, we call this "crisis averted" in homage to my OCD and to make light of all that fretting.