I’m not even on Facebook but it’s nights like tonight that I wish I was a tweet-er. Who else can I tell, when most of my friends are on Eastern Standard time and asleep, that I’ve been kidnapped in my home? Enslaved to the weather alert system my mom gave us as a house-warming gift.
I thought this thing was meant to notify us of a tornado warning. We don’t really watch TV and aren’t as paranoid as my sister who gets weather alerts sent to her phone, so this seemed like a simple way of “staying informed” should a tornado be miles away from our house in the middle of the night.
Well, Nate’s out and our personal Al Roker seems to have a hair trigger. This afternoon it started by informing me of a thunderstorm watch.
Hmm...I thought. This thing was really only supposed to make us aware of incoming tornados.
Six hours and 27 alerts later, I might as well be applying for a job at the local news station with all of the inside intel I’m getting in the form of blow-horn like signals erupting from my precious housewarming gift.
The problem: I don’t want to turn it off in case tonight is the night when I need to wake my children and hide from the twister.
If I was the manual-reading type I could probably figure out how to ask this thing to tone it down, that I really don’t care to be informed of flash flooding at 3am, and just alert me of a tornado warning.
But I don’t read manuals. I only use my label maker to create a filing system for them so that Nate can read them when he needs to.
And since I can’t tweet you (or however you say it) and ask you what the heck I should do, I’m not going to risk it. Instead I will endure the air raid siren next to my bed that goes off every 17 minutes when the weather pattern changes.
Thanks mom for the thoughtful gift. We’re certainly not uninformed here in Kansas City.