Storm Damage And Sequin Shoes

We had quite the storm here in Birmingham on Sunday night. I, of course, was catching up on Friday's Medium while the SO was away, when I heard pounding against the side of the house that sounded like an invading army wanted in. In actuality, it was hail.

Hail rained down on the house like I haven't seen in years. (It looked like someone had taken garbage cans full of that rabbit pellet ice and dumped it all over the yard and driveway.) It was one of the loudest storms I can remember.

The dogs stuck pretty close to me, but other than that, they seemed to be handling the stress OK. However, when I went to the back room of the house to look for Kitty Cat Jones (he knows how to use the dog door), I realized he had not taken refuge from the storm, and I was going to have to go out there.

In my storm gear of fitflops and a hoodie, I stepped on to the front porch -- which is the same exact moment that Kitty Cat Jones shot past me. (I went out there to rescue him, and he responded by running to and past me because that's just the kind of cat that I have.) And, when he ran away from he, did he go to hide under the car or some other safe spot? Of course not. He went straight for the wooded area next to the house, and I spent some quality time in the bushes looking for him.

While I was outside, I was also able to observe the river of trash and leaves that the street had become. Water rushed down the street, carrying anything even remotely close to the curb with it.

Once I retrieved Kitty Cat Jones, I went back inside to dry him off and let him rest. Then, I waited for the rest of the storm to pass and went to bed. (I am paranoid about tornadoes and needed to make sure that I was not going to have to put all of the animals and myself in the bath tub with a mattress over us before tempting fate by going to sleep.)

On Monday, I learned why this storm was probably the loudest one I can remember. While hail was assaulting the house and I went in search of a cat, the house next door was collapsing. Collapsing.

The house next door was abandoned and pretty much stripped down to its frame. There were remnants of interior walls, but not too much else. However, it's still hard to believe that the storm itself was strong enough to blow the thing down.

References to The Three Little Pigs aside, when the SO and I went over to check out the damage on Monday night, I couldn't help but check for red sequin shoes or some other sign that the Wicked Witch of the East had been there.

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