We are not amused.

Yesterday afternoon, it started to get breezy. After a while it got downright windy.

Then the sky looked like this

After a little while, the sky looked like this

Yup, it really was that dark. And there was thunder.

And then it got really really dark. There was even more thunder and even some lightning. We don’t have thunder or lightning, generally.

And then this happened. Thunder, fireworks, etc. cause sheer panic in Archie. He decided that his best bet was to stay in the bathroom on the rug, panting and whining until The Rapture.

My children have no idea what to do when it rains. And, yes, they rarely keep their clothes on in the house. We are shopping around for a nice Double Wide “Manufactured Home.”

While the storm raged on, Grand Master H spilled juice all over himself. When he was getting out of his chair, he accidentally punched the still half full juice cup, which then went flying all over his sister’s chair and the clean non-sticky portion of kitchen floor.

During all of this, the dog is running up and down the hall, panting and whining since there was still the occasional clap of thunder. He had the ears back, tail tucked, “HOLY SHIT, WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!” look on his face.

As I mopped up the mess, there was the unmistakeable stench of, well, I will just say it, POO! Can I just tell you, it was biblical. It was horrid. I figured he had let go somewhere in the house from the stress of, “OH MY GOD, THE WORLD IS ENDING!”

Turns out, nope, it was our delicate little princess, Baby C. She was, in the middle of all of this hysteria, sporting a World Class Poonami.

But wait, I have to mop the floor before The Juice Incident becomes even worse. So I hurry and mop, almost slipping and eating ceramic tile on two occasions.

Got that done. One crisis as a time, as Dwight Schrute would say. Pretty much in any crisis situation, I ask myself, what would Dwight Schrute do? And then I pretty much do the opposite.

So poor Archie got blamed for an intestinal jihad that was not, in fact, his own. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, these things happen.

Eventually, everyone went to bed. Archie was still a hysterical blob of trembling, whimpering Jack Russell, but he felt better in his crate.

And then this happened

and it all seemed worth it.

All of those photos are straight out of the camera. Pretty amazing show.

And then this morning I found how my brother and his family were rudely awakened by Mother Nature.
I had to laugh. It was like they were having California experiences and we were having East Coast-type thunderstorms in the evening.

Ironic.

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