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This Is The Stuff News Reports Are Made Of

Published June 22, 2014 by ia84

So, last night (Friday) we had a bit of a gully washer here in Omaha.  I was at work, and as my shift progressed, I noticed the sky getting darker and darker until it was pitch black.  That’s about when the torrential downpour began.  By time time my shift had ended, the rain hadn’t let up, and the basement at my work had flooded.  I didn’t think much about this because it’s prone to flooding, as is our parking lot.  Before I left work, I checked the weather warnings, and all I found was that there was a flash flood warning for a county in Iowa.  Thinking I was safe, I decided to head home.

Now, have you ever seen those new videos where they show people, stranded in their cars, while the roads swell with flood waters?   I’ve always watched those videos kind of judgmentally.  I’m usually wondering what kind of idiot would go out in that weather in the first place.  Now I know, because it turns out I’m that kind of idiot.

Honestly, things weren’t going well from the minute I left work.  Like I said, the parking lot at work was flooded, but I’m so used to that I didn’t think anything of it.  However, when I got out on the road, I noticed that the water seemed to be a little higher than was comforting.  Plus, I kept having water go up the tailpipe and the van would fill with gas fumes.  Which, is apparently a not so good thing, and probably should have been a big sign to me that I was probably in trouble.

And at this point you’re thinking, “You did the smart thing, pulled over, and waited it out.  Right?”

Didn’t I mention before that I’m an idiot?

I did almost pull off at Village Inn near my work.  My thought was that I could just wait out the storm there, but then I began wondering what I would do if the storm didn’t let up anytime soon.  So, I pushed on for home.  Such a huge mistake.

Most of L Street was under some water.  There were actually multiple times that I found that the appearance of a road had completely disappeared.  When I saw cars stranded I went from worried to really scared.  I just began praying, “Jesus, just get me home.  Please just get me home.”  I didn’t make deal any deals with God, or anything like that.  I just asked to get home safely.  As soon as I could, I got off of L, and headed for Q Street, thinking that would be a better option.

Headed down hill on Q Street towards the intersection with 96th Street, I saw something I wasn’t at all prepared for.  The entire intersection was completely underwater.  Cars were stalled, and the rushing water was coming up to the hoods of large pickup trucks.  Fortunately, there was a parking lot on the hill that I could pull in to.  Sitting there, I felt trapped.  I knew I couldn’t go back to L Street, and clearly I couldn’t get through the intersection at the bottom of the hill.  It was late and dark and I was terrified and I was alone.  Because I’m a drama queen, I had a brief moment where my mind seriously darted to the thought of, “What if this is it?  What if I die here?”  I briefly considered contacting those people in my life that are most important and telling them how important they are to me, and how much I love and appreciate them.  Fortunately for them, no one received a phone call from a unnerved, terrified me, because as I sat there I decided to head back and try going a more roundabout way to get home, one that was likely to be less flooded.

Long, long story shorter, I did make it home.  It took me an hour, compared to the normal 15 minutes.  I did not make any embarrassing phone calls, or send any embarrassing texts.  Not that telling people you love them is embarrassing.  However I do believe you shouldn’t have to be wondering if you’re going to die in order to be prompted to let people know you truly care about them.

Also, I’m thankful that my stupidity didn’t actually end up on the news.

It Might Be Time To Call Sam & Dean

Published May 27, 2014 by ia84

Have you ever been showering and then suddenly noticed a giant spider hanging out on the ceiling?  And then the spider proved it could move super fast, and even after you finished your shower, it held you hostage in the shower for much longer than you’re proud of?  And while you were waiting to escape from the shower, you tried to decide if this was a re-enactment of that scene from Arachnophobia or if it would fit better in a Supernatural episode?  And have you found yourself disappointed that your phone was in another room, because you couldn’t even text the boy about how you were stuck in a ridiculous nightmare of one of your three worst irrational fears?

In case you’re wondering, I can honestly answer yes to all the above questions.  I did manage to finally escape the shower, but the spider is still at large.  Which is funny, considering how large the spider was.  And am I embarrassed by all of this?  Yes, I absolutely am.  A freakin’ spider held me hostage in a bathtub!

I think I need a hug.

Douche-nozzle is a word, right?

Published February 28, 2013 by ia84

Oh my, it’s been a bit of a time since I last updated.  The main reason is that I’ve had very minimal internet access, and I was super sick.  Combined, these things equaled no blogging.  I think I’m back to regular updates now.

Apart from being ill, interesting things have happened since I last wrote.  I went on a date!  It’s true.  I’m not making this up.  Granted, it was mostly a blind date, but the main point is that I got asked out, and I actually went.

The date happened this past Sunday, and I had a great time.  We met at the Durham Museum, and then went out for Mexican.  Despite the fact that I was prepared for it to be super awkward (it’s a first date, could I expect different?), I felt like I had known this guy for a while.  I even realized that I could easily like him as more than a friend.  He seemed to have fun, and not to be totally uneasy in my presence, so I figured that all was well.

I can’t explain it, but come Monday morning, I started getting this real uneasy feeling.  My spider-sense was tingling.  Based on nothing, my brain came up with this thought, “He’s never going to want to see you again or have anything to do with you.”  I tried to push this thought aside, but it kept bugging me.  I got really down during work, but I just blamed it on my meds.  What I take for my diabetes, makes emotions a little more severe.  Happiness can turn into being ecstatic, and feeling a little down can turn into a black pit of despair.

Yesterday, Tuesday, morning, I awoke to an email from this guy.  It was my first contact with him since Sunday evening when I texted him to thank him for taking me out.  I won’t share the e-mail, but let me share the real “highlight” of it.  He didn’t feel that “special spark” with me that he always promised himself he would feel with the person he is supposed to be with.

Really?

Really?

Special spark?

Hello!  That’s tons of pressure to put on a first date.  Especially one that was essentially blind.  We’d only communicated a few weeks before that.  So, all in all that was not even 10 emails, a few text messages, and a 2.5 hour date.  What did he expect?  That within minutes of meeting each other, we’d fall madly in love/bed with each other?  This guy didn’t want to go on a date in real life.  He wanted to go on a date in a movie!  Also, it really irks me that he made this decision based on a date that took place the day after he went to Beerfest and got fairly inebriated.  Yeah, in my experience, being hungover, even a little does not bode well for making solid choices.

Another thing, if you’re basing your choice for a life companion based on whether there’s a spark, that’s a really bad decision.  When I was growing up we lived in a house with a fireplace.  The thing I remember about sparks is that there are tons of them, they burn bright for a brief moment, and then are gone.  Who wants that?  Just because there’s an instant click, doesn’t mean that you should walk down the aisle together.  Even the best romances from fiction and tv are the ones based in friendship.  Elizabeth and Darcy hated each other to begin with, and yet they’re considered one of the most amazing love stories in literature.

All in all, the more I think about it, the more I realize what I disaster I got saved from.  He spent tons of time talking about himself and his friends and his cats.  It was all I could do to get a word in edgewise, and he certainly wasn’t interested in anything I had to say.

I guess the true positive is that I took a risk, something I’m not good at, and I gained some life experience.

Also, being the super-mature human being that I am, I may have spent a good portion of yesterday and today referring to this guy as a douche-nozzle.  Not a very polite moniker, but much kinder than anything else I felt like referring to him as.