I can hear their loud rumblings as I sit here typing, and it’s making me nervous. And it’s not only the noise; the weather radar shows an enormous red blob heading my way.
The last time I was nervous about storms was a few years ago. My girlfriend and I had just opened the champagne, and were settling in for a lovely meal when the rain came. Heavy rain. No really, this rain was so heavy the bottom of the cloud was dragging along the ground.
Then the tinkling noise started. It was the sound of water rushing into my lounge room through the gaps around the front door, and there was plenty of it. It made its way across the carpet and out into the kitchen. Dirty… brown… water.
One look outside told the story. There was a wall of water two feet deep rushing through the yard, and it would end up in a $23,000 insurance claim to repair the damage in my house.
The whole event was surreal. Living in the mountains should mean immunity from floods, however the combination of living at the bottom of a steep driveway in a street which is itself at the bottom of a steep hill meant that on that day, when the street drains were unable to cope with the microburst’s output, my place and the guy next door copped the lot.
I never want to go through that drama again. I do what I can by keeping the drains cleared and my gutters free of gunge, but whenever I hear rumbling in the sky my nerves start to twitch.
That’s why this blog is a great idea, because while I’ve been typing this missive the thunder’s rolled on by and the rain’s done its dash. The radar’s now showing the big red blob to be a big blue blob; it’s lost its intensity and is on its way to the lowlands.
I think I’ve discovered a new way to handle stress.
Writing can be so therapeutic.