Sweet Mother of Pearl...

...we had drama today.

For the second time in three days we had a big (b-i-g) storm that caught me by surprise. So just as I'm stepping out of the tub (yeah) the wind starts blowing and the sirens start wailing. I manage to pull on shorts and a t-shirt, forget about hair and makeup. DD and I stumble down the basement stairs, grab the flashlight, and set up the handy little portable TV so we can catch the weather report. I'm tuning in and DD realizes she's barefoot so finds a pair of strappy heels--how an eight year old gets a pair of strappy heels is a story for another day--and puts them on.

The weather man says Doppler radar indicates rotation right over my house, take cover immediately. (Okay, that's not exactly what he said but it's close.) Hmmm...not good. Hail outside, sounds of chairs flying, swing set flipping over. DD points out fairly large amounts of water dripping on the floor, I investigate, determine it's mainly condensation from the A/C ductwork and feel a little nervous about its proximity to a bunch of electrical cable.

And, that's when it got ugly.

Every flippin' smoke alarm in the house starts blaring. My heart sinks. Lightening strike? Water meets electricity? I figure I don't have time to investigate, we've got to get out of the house. We fly up the stairs, don't smell smoke--forget the stupid cat--out the front door. We stop on the porch. DD says, "where are we going to go?" Crap. Rotation right over my house. Driving rain, flooded street. Cowering on neighbor's porch doesn't seem safe. I remember seeing another neighbor standing in his driveway so I figure it's a safe bet he's home. We tear down the flooded street. Me in my stupid t-shirt and no makeup, DD in strappy heels. Luckily whole family is there...from the basement they hear banging on their front door and very kindly offer shelter to the soaking wet, nearly hysterical woman and little girl in strappy heels.

Anyway, it's twelve-plus hours later and I'm still feeling a little wobbly from the adrenaline rush. I'm incredibly grateful to my neighbors and plan to bake them something spectacular as a thank you. And, no, the house didn't burn down. It was just some driving rain that accumulated around one of the upstairs smoke alarms and caused it to short out.

I realize this is irrational, but I'm ticked off at my house. It didn't shelter me. It put me and my daughter in harm's way. All for a little puddle of water that it shouldn't have let in. I didn't like the house too much to begin with. Not sure this bodes well in a stagnant housing market with rising interest rates. One of us is going to have to make some serious changes or this relationship is going to get messy.