Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore!

I'd just entered that deep sleep, where if disturbed you awake with the mentality of a gnat high on cocaine, when my phone woke me with a weeooh, weeooh, weeooh alert.

I shot out of bed like I’d been fired from a cannon, grabbed the cat, my phone, my purse, and ran down the stairs to the basement.

I guess you can take the girl out of tornado alley, but you can’t take tornado alley reflexes out of the girl. By now I was awake enough to realize I was nekked. Closest apparel was my snow camouflage winter coat and Sorrell boots. At least with my butt cheeks hanging out I wouldn’t end up on the front page of the paper or be interviewed on the local news. (Yes, these are things I worry about, and yes these are the kind of solutions I come up with.)  Next, I checked my phone and discovered I’d been launched from peaceful slumber for a Flash Flood Warning. What the hell!!!!

I didn’t sign up for any flood alerts, so why is my sleep being disturbed? Evidently a lot of other people were not happy about the heart-stopping alert, since our local paper reported the next morning that the alert was part of the Federal Early Warning System and basically we didn’t get a choice.

Okay Feds, let me give you a warning…give me another heart attack and I’ll shove my phone up your ass where it can join your head.

 Listen up Big Brother, you can weeooh, weeooh, weeooh, my ass out of bed for a tornado, earthquake, volcanic eruption or nuclear explosion…otherwise leave my sleep undisturbed. In case you can’t tell, it pisses me off when someone else makes decisions for me. Especially, when it’s a universal, unilateral, unifucking, decision that doesn’t apply to me! If North Korea decides to EMP us, I give my permission to alert me. (Oh wait, if they fire off an EMP our phones won’t work, so Feds you can feel free to send a rep to my house with a six-pack and a bag of M&Ms to alert me.)

Otherwise take note: Big Brother and your Auntie Em, get out of my sleep cycle!

I passed the hall mirror on my way back to bed and this coat and boot outfit isn’t half bad, all it needs is the matching Elmer Fudd, mad bomber hat, which I took off the hook on my way by just in case there was an earthquake later and I needed to get out quickly.  Hey…it could happen!

Another note: In case you’re wondering where George was in all this…he was asleep.  Life-goes-on-Corky-unaffected. Sleeping with a smile on his face unaffected. It’s enough to make me wish he wakes to a day of snotty-barf-farts.