Vortex

Inspirational song: Crisis Time (Bad Religion)

That's it. My head is exploding. I'm trying so hard to stay in my nice, neutral, non-political lane. It's a more difficult feat tonight than on most days. Every morning I wake up and wonder what fresh, wet pile of monkey feces is going to be hurled out of Washington, and every night I try to forget my outrage and find something uplifting to write about cats or flowers or real estate. I'm going to dig deep again and do that tonight, but I want you to know, I'm upset. My hair is on fire. This is very, very bad. Like houseguests and fish, as the days go by, this is only going to stink more.

I was trying to use today as a recovery day. I didn't get enough sleep, and was generally worn out. Unfortunately for me, naps weren't an option. I did work today, but only in small bursts. I don't have a whole lot of work related stories to tell, except that I had to run back to the house I held open to retrieve something I left behind, and I needed to pull the last "open house" sign and leave it in the house. I dragged the Mr along for the ride, and gave him a tour of the home. We then went to a lovely dinner downtown, and sat outside on a mild spring evening. It was a nice chance to talk about non-stressful things, like plans for the mountain property. By that point in this particular day, design ideas for a potential shed/cabin were a lovely respite from national security issues that have overwhelmed my attention for hours.

Before we could make it home, even on the very short drive that is, we noticed a gigantic ball cloud on the horizon. A few pops of lightning later, I was hieing off to the county line road, so we could drive out to a nice, dark spot with a long vista. We ended up at the farthest corner of the county, next to some communications towers and farmland, trying to capture flashes of light in the cloud with our cell phone cameras. I think I might have done it, but I haven't studied my pictures yet. This storm is humongous. The cloud was so big, we thought it was close, like essentially right over the south Loveland house where we had just gone. But when I stopped the car and looked at the radar, this thing was far away, north of Wellington, near the Wyoming border. It was purely coincidental that there was a looming storm on the horizon that was far bigger than it seemed at first glance on a night like this. But I'm always looking for a good metaphor. Found one.