Be Careful What You Wish For

by Tom Swift

While I am not in favor of destruction, and I take a strong stand against accidental death — most especially if innocent animals are involved — I do like me a good summer storm. Give me rolling thunder and flashes of light that cut through windows and bounce around the room. Rain. Is there any better way to sleep than to the steady patter of rain on your roof?

I lamented aloud to colleagues last week that in recent years, or so it seems, we have been slighted our share of storm time. When the thunder clouds do come, they don’t stay long. As soon as you settle in, you look outside and see the post-game glow.

As I write these words, it’s been storming off and mostly on for seventeen straight hours and, well, I just woke up from a nap. Usually, storms calm me, inspire me, yet this one has left me low on energy and not especially high in spirits. The little buddy and I missed our morning walk — I still would have gone but he’s not the fan of rain I am — and life is not the same when we miss our morning walk.

We still do have the couch. On it, we stay close. I keep him stable and he keeps me comfortable. No destruction here.