I've reached another end of day and not too much has happened. Except, once again it's storming. Since it's storming and we are in Wisconsin, there are tornado watches. This is a fact of life in the midwest. And, for me, tornado anything is no big deal. I'm under the belief that when it is time to die it is time to die. I've seen those Final Destination movies. Even though I cover my eyes and cringe when I hear the you-are-about-to-die music, I understand the plot line. You can't run from something as permanent and life changing as death.
This is not a widely held, easily accepted belief. My best friend is on her way to crash on our extra mattress slash cower in our basement right now. I want to say that I can understand the need to hide from the inevitable. But, I really don't. Hiding from tornadoes is like hiding from time, age and taxes. Yes, it's totally possible that clenching my teeth and screaming my head off in our not-so-slowly decaying basement where there isn't a single enclosed space will somehow save my life. But running down stairs at the nearest thunder clap is only going to help prevent type-II diabetes and heart disease.
I'd really like to read a book on statistical analysis of trying to prevent injury through trapping yourself in a room.