Just to be clear, Kentucky, where I am, is not, nor has it ever been, on a coast of any kind. I am clear on the fact that I am lucky. My house isn't underwater, I've never evacuated (although I once spent a week in my mom's house because the power was out), and most importantly, I've never weathered a hurricane.
My theory is that when you make a decision about where you are going to live, you are basically playing a game of Choose Your Own Natural Disaster. (Like Choose Your Own Adventure, but less reading, less fun, more death and higher home owners' insurance.) I chose a little bit of everything, and nothing big of anything.
We get tornadoes, but they are wittle bitty cutesy ones compared to the monsters that whip up over the open plains. We get earthquakes, and then debate for three days about whether or not that was really an earthquake we felt that morning. We get snow, but not lake effect snow, blizzard conditions, or generally, anything that sticks around more than 48 hours. Ice storms are our major schtick and even those get worse other places. And we get what I like to call, hurricane fallout. We don't get hurricanes, because, as I mentioned, we're not on a coast. We do get high winds, torrential rain, occasional flooding, snow and other crap. Up from the gulf or West from the Coast, either way.
And again, I know how lucky I am. I am thinking about all the people further East who have bigger issues than I do. Scary, life threatening issues. Get the pants out of your house issues. I get it.
So, knowing that, please allow me to bitch for a moment.
Last night, after I got home from working late and picking up the kids and doing all that jazz, we tumbled into the house and all piled into my big red chair to watch some TV. Every once in a while there was horrible high pitched wailing sound. After ruling out ghosts, zombies, banshees and wraiths, I decided that a window must be ajar. So, I began my rounds. I triple checked each window in the house. All closed, all locked and none with a noticeable draft.
Finally, I got sick of listening to the kids fight (which is increasingly how I determine bedtime) and slapped those puppies in their beds. Walking back to the living room, I heard a knock. At my back door, which no one ever uses, especially at night, because the light over there doesn't work.
After ruling out serial killer, axe murderer, vampire and evil hitchhiker, I walked out on the deck. Where I discovered that my gutter was trying very hard to lie down on the ground and take a little nappy-poo. The screaming noise was apparently metal trying to wrench itself free of my house and the knocking was what happens when it partially succeeds and starts banging against the house.
About five hours later, the gutter finally fell enough to quit it's knocking. I've never been so grateful for a monstrous crash in my back yard.
Someday, I wanna sleep.
Also, my prayers are with those of you praying that a fallen gutter is the worst of your problems.