So I cranked up the weather reports, and there was a storm of Biblical proportions running more or less parallel to I-40 in Canadian County. At that angle, I calculated, it should miss me by at least two miles.
And then, of course, it turned toward me, making a beeline for Penn Square — and it would have to pass over me to get there. Too late to run. I improvised a lean-to tent with the bedding, which I figured afforded me about a 10-percent chance of survival, which was 10 percent better than I stood otherwise. The last thing I tweeted was a prayer of sorts.
And then, for no reason I can imagine, it resumed its original course, due east, and never came close to me, although the rain — two inches in an hour — was ferocious. There was hail, though not enough, and not big enough, to make much of a dent in anything. The ground levels off behind the house, so there was a bit of water coming in through the back door, which opens into the garage, and maybe a little seepage around the edges of the slab.
At this writing, thunder continues, the rain has slacked off a bit, and, well, this post obviously wasn’t sitting in the Draft folder all day.