In the shadow of a storm
Since midnight, we’ve been in the middle of a developing #weatherbomb. Or as Shania put it, in a song, “That don’t impress me much”.
Given the hype, on my local TV station, in my local newspaper, (just about everything local that counts), I expected something worthy of the attention. I wanted a satellite TV truck out at the end of the lane, promoting my region as “living dangerously”. In truth, we’ve had a bit of sloppy snow, and now the wind is whistling around the deck door (gusting to 56, so far). The wind does that pretty much all year long. Checking the barometer history (technology for everything here), I can state that the air pressure is plummeting. Down by 45 mb in 20 hours; yes, we meet the standard defined in dictionaries.
But, the dog still goes out and gets a massage from the gusting winds. He goes outside… voluntarily. No need to boot the butt to inspire him. Not much else to add. We’ve been warned that the power might fade to nothing (that also isn’t impressive, in a world where standby generators are autostarting). The one bump, earlier this afternoon, was nicely absorbed by the new battery pack, leaving me with only the stove/microwave clocks requiring a reset.
There are snow chips in stock (just had a gentle reminder that I have TOO MANY snow chips in stock), so I’d best join the rest of my neighbours and try to crunch my way through the rest of the evening. Bedtime will be at the usual hour; after all, it takes more than a wx-bomb to impress me!
