This past weekend we had a massive snow/ice storm that destroyed Southeastern Wisconsin and killed babies and stranded kittens in trees and yet somehow still wasn’t as bad as Snowpocalypse or a continued debate about the budget bill.

At least according to the newscasts that went something like this: “Today protesters broke through a one-inch thick sheet of ice covering their homes to return to the Capitol for Day 829 of the protests…”

(I swear. It’s becoming like the hostage crisis.)

Anyway, our power kept flashing on and off. Which was mildly annoying because, uh, I’m trying to write a response paper here please so if we could just keep the power on for more than a min…DAMMIT.

It stopped being annoying and became a little bit terrifying when the power outages were preceded by flashes of blinding neon blue light that surrounded our house. And then it went totally dark. Because that’s not disturbing at all.

(Alien invasion and the apocalypse were quickly considered and discarded because I think aliens even want to avoid Madison this week and I’m not a fundamentalist Christian.)

It became downright terrifying when we realized that the flash of neon blue light was coming from huge sparks from the wires RIGHT OUTSIDE THE HOUSE and, you know, SPARKS ELECTRICITY HOUSE NOT GOOD.

So we called the power company and they started working on it but what with the union thing going on, I was not content to just assume everything was going to be fine. I figured this house was going down in a blaze and I should probably be prepared. So everyone else gathered an appropriate number of things like socks and coats and things you can’t replace just in case.

I gathered a weekender (Very Bradley, natch) bag that included the following:

– My German dictionary. Because I hate German and even though it was only $8 it galled me to think about having to buy another one.

– Witness to Hope. Because if you’re a refugee somewhere I can’t imagine anything better than 1000 pages that you need to read anyway.

– My folder that contains my notes for my paper this semester. BECAUSE YOU DO NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH ME IF I HAVE TO READ MORE ABOUT HOW PAUL VI WAS MISUNDERSTOOD.

– My Kirsten doll. Shut up. I’m an adult.

– My Rebecca doll. I MEAN IT.

– A makeup bag. Because I know someone would probably kick me out of the caravan if I said, “Uh, hey…could we just stop at BareMinerals really quick?”

– A change of clothes. Because I always thought it was sad that refugees lost all their clothes.

– My UWM sweatshirt. Because those are expensive. And I want to be able to show my children and say, “Hey, remember when we had a UW system?”

– My hair straightener. Because I’m vain.

– My $23 conditioner. Ditto.

– My Ethnic 203 binder because even if I was living in a shelter somewhere I’d still have to go to work because I wouldn’t want people to think I was “sick”.

Interestingly, my computer and flash drive that contains ALL MY GRADING only made the second cut when I realized the house wasn’t actually on fire THAT SECOND.

Yeah. So. I’m pretty sure if I’m ever fleeing…well, anywhere, I’ll pretty much just be laughed at and waved out of the country.

Which actually might not be a bad thing. See, Mom? You have nothing to worry about with Spain.


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