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We’ve had some crazy weather here in the last several days. Last night I fell asleep to the sounds of the most amazing thunderstorm. Sure, there were tornado watches, but I live upstairs, so basically, if a tornado gets anywhere near me, I’m probably going to die. It’s not something I get too worked up over, because it’s not like I can really do anything about it.

The tornado sirens started going off as I was on my way back from lunch this afternoon. I walked between raindrops (because of course, I left my umbrella at my desT® where it would do the most good) and when I got back into the building, people were lining up along the “tornado walls.” Oh, yay. However, luckily for me, I work in the basement and since that’s the ‘safe area’, I was able to go to my desT® and eat my lunch in peace before my supervisor came along and ordered me and my podmates under our desTs®, which I think is an actionable offense under other circumstances. Apparently, they take this shit seriously.

So I called MoC and got Joy. I asked Joy if they had taken cover (because tornadoes had briefly touched down less than 10 miles from her apartment). She said she was trying to talk my mom into it. Good luck with that one, Joy. I called back when a report of another tornado had touched down even closer.

Me: Are you in the closet?

MoC: It’s not even here yet!

Me: And by the time it gets there it will be too late and you’ll get blown away to Oz and I can’t find your ruby red slippers. So get in the damn closet! I spent 20 years in the closet, the least you can do is spend 20 minutes in it.

Which made my mother laugh and made my male podmate raise his eyebrow at me.

So she went, somewhat reluctantly.

She called me a little while ago and sounded kind of upset and serious. I couldn’t tell if she was worried because she hadn’t heard from me yet or if she had just finished watching the. last. Oprah. show. EVER.  She’s been crying from 4-5pm for the last 3 days.

MoC: I’m so glad I caught you. I need to talk to you.

Me: Okay, what’s up?

MoC: I need to ask a favor. Can you come over tomorrow around 3pm? I know that’s cutting it close for you, but Joy wants to have a meeting with everyone. She’s going to stay late and go over a few things.

Me: Oh, great. What does she need to tell us?

MoC: About what to do in case of emergencies like today. What rooms are safest, what to take with you, first aid, things you can’t really put in a note.

Me: She is out of her mind!

MoC: Well, do you know what to do?

Me: Sure. You take some bottled water, some snacks, a radio – the weather radio you never use – a flashlight and go into your closet.

MoC: Oh. Well, can you come over anyway? You can help her. She’s probably going to have a hundred people here.

Me: She’s so over the top I can’t even deal with her! Why is she so crazy?

MoC: Why are you so gullible?

Me: Noooooooo, oh no you didn’t!!

MoC: Yes. Yes I did. I can’t believe you fell for that. Flat on your face, too.

It was perfect. It was completely plausible (because Joy is a loon) and flawlessly delivered.

She should have been a poker player.

She could have taught Doyle Brunson a thing or two.

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