An ill wind will be blowing tonight, according to various chief meteorologists. Let's hope this is one they miss like the Great Icepocalyse of '11.
Just in case the sun was shining on a dog's butt today, I'm planning to take precautions. My ounce of prevention goes a little something like this:
1. Throw purse, emergency cash, and medicines in a Devil's Playground bag and haul it to the basement. That's beforehand, not when the 5th-wheel camper is crashing through the front window.
2. Bring a working radio to the basement. That's because the Dish usually goes out, and I won't be able to hear the chief meteorologists fervently commanding me to TAKE COVER!
3. Snooze lightly in the recliner upstairs while waiting for the Cyclone of the Century.
4. At the first sound of chickens, goats, bricks, or metal chairs slamming into the front wall, wake Rip Van H and the boys, and hustle them down to the basement.
5. Squelch argument between #1 and The Pony over who will sleep on the couch, and who will get the Toenail Rug. Turn on the radio, and tilt back the recliner. Rip Van H is on his own.
6. Call my mom and see if she is OK.
7. Muddle through the school day, fueled by a couple of hours of sleep.