Tornadoes ruin Date Nights

Last night, Biceps and I finished our puppet box project for a church here in town earlier than expected. (Unfamiliar with this side of my life? This is what I’m referring to):

Once aforementioned box was completed, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. We actually had a few hours of free time.

So, we came up with a brilliant plan-date night!

However, this started rolling in-along with thunder, rain and lightening. However, we forged ahead with our plans. I got the hairdryer out, the make-up bag and the hairspray. I wanted to look good for my man. I even remembered deodorant.

Then, we started noticing all of the outdoor events we were to partake of were being cancelled. People were talking of getting into their storm shelters. Sissies, I thought. I’ve seen worse.

The weatherman put a big red blob across my state and plastered it with, “Tornado Warning.” I sighed and washed the make-up off my face.

Tornadoes are stupid. Instead of being able to cuddle up and relax like you would with a snowstorm, you spend two hours watching the news and prepping for the inevitable. The storm chasers describe the scene with glee, the same video of touch-downs keeps rolling and you finally give up and go to bed.

Tornadoes ruin date nights. The weather owes me one.