Today got off to a wild start.
Now that it’s getting warmer, I’ve been walking outside again in the mornings. This might put a crimp on my reading pace, but the fresh air and colorful sunrises are a lot more stimulating than walking in place on the treadmill like some common hamster. Here was today’s:
It didn’t last long though. I always check the weather before heading out the door, and the radar showed a line of strong thunderstorms to the west, heading our way. I got all math-y, calculated their speed and movement, and figured I’d be able to finish my walk before they moved in. But I decided to stick close to home just in case. When thunder roars, go indoors, and all that jazz.
The clouds were gathering and the sky was looking pretty ominous. Flickers of lightning danced across the horizon, accompanied by distant rumbling thunder. Before I even got back home, I started getting all kinds of alerts on my phone. The situation, as they say, was escalating.
When an emergency alert warned of “supercells” and “baseball sized hail” I got a little nervous, especially since Tara had just left for work. Luckily, the largest hail missed us by a few miles, but they weren’t joking about the threat.
That is some Black Hills-level hail there! It rivals our July 2020 Rapid City hailstorm. Honestly, I didn’t think I had to worry about giant hailstones in Wisconsin. Tara and I were visiting a couple of months before moving and struck up a conversation with a couple at a bar. We specifically asked them if hail was a concern out here, and they assured us that hail was rare, and when it did fall, it was tiny.
They lied.
Thankfully, that is neither my hand nor my hail in the above photo. Here’s what we got:
I guess we dodged a bullet there! Our hail, while still impressive, kinda paled in comparison. That didn’t stop a bunch of vultures roofing repair companies from going door to door through the ‘hood, dropping off flyers.
As if this wasn’t enough excitement for a Friday morning, just as the storm was rolling in, I was busily preparing a BBQ pork shoulder roast for the Traeger. Figured since I was working from home today, it would be a great opportunity to smoke meat for the first time this season. The Traeger is set up on the patio beneath our deck, so I didn’t get too wet. Had it cooking minutes before the hail arrived, so: good timing.
Still, it’s uncanny how it always seems to rain whenever I decide to smoke something. I guess the next time we’re suffering from drought conditions, I should buy a brisket.
A few weeks ago, I was driving through town on my way home and came to a red light next to a senior living facility. I glanced up and saw, through an open window, Michael Scott’s face in high-definition on someone’s TV. Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. God, how I loved The Office; it’s one of my all-time favorite sitcoms, but I hadn’t seen it in years. That evening, I vowed to rewatch the entire series from the start.
Best of all? Shockingly (and borderline inexcusably), Tara has never watched The Office. She’s not completely in the dark when it comes to the Dunder-Mifflin gang; she’s seen bits and pieces here and there, and we both frequently toss out a well-timed “That’s what she said!” whenever (in)appropriate. But this is the first time she’s watching the whole series. In a way, I envy her; can you imagine having nine seasons’ worth of new-to-you Jim and Dwight shenanigans to look forward to?! And sure, the quality dipped once Steve Carell left, but even the weakest episodes of The Office are better than 90% of anything else on TV.
How deep was my obsession? When I joined a dating site after my divorce, my profile included the following gem:
We could also be compatible if you think Jim and Pam from “The Office” are the World’s Perfect Couple. Alternatively, owning a Dwight Schrute bobblehead doll will win you major points. Or just knowing that Kevin leads a Police cover band called Scrantonicity. Because in a universe where reality television rules, this sitcom is like a beacon of hope. Not that there’s anything wrong with reality TV. It’s just that, if I hear Jeff Probst utter the words “wanna know what you’re playing for?” one more time, I just might scream.
Oh, and I own a Pam Beesly bobblehead doll. That’s not creepy or anything, right? (Maybe don’t answer that.)
I know what you’re thinking: it’s a wonder I was single for as long as I was! I know, guys. I can’t believe it either.
In any case, we’re midway through Season 2, and I’m happy to say the humor holds up well – even Michael Scott’s cringiest moments. I find myself laughing out loud often – and it’s fascinating to see the evolution of each character with fresh eyes.
Thank you, random old person with an open window, for reminding me how much I love this show.
Mark My Words 
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