A Near Miss

It's been windy and raining for three straight days in Eastern N.C. Pelting sheets of rain. The ground is soggy, the ditches and streams are full. The air smells fresh and clean.

Speaking as someone who loves rainy days, it's been glorious.

Very early this morning, as soon as my call-shift was over, I packed up to come home for the weekend. There had been thunder in the distance since the wee hours of the morning, and the cats were unusually restless during the night (it was not until I got home that I heard about the nasty/deadly weather in Johnston and Wilson counties).

During a brief lull in the rain (it was down to a sprinkle), I quickly loaded the car. I locked the door of my apartment, and then put the cat carrier in the front seat. It was getting darker, and suddenly the rain/wind started to pick up.

This is difficult to describe, but as soon as I shut the passenger-side door behind the kitties, I felt a sudden charge in the air all around me/the car - followed by the sensation of being surrounded by the brightest of light. I blinked, and as soon as I did, there was a massive KABOOM very, very close to me. My heart literally skipped a beat. My ears ringing, I believe I uttered an explicative.

As soon as I was certain that my spirit was still in my body and I was not a candidate for the ghost-whisperer's help (poor Melinda has enough to deal with these days), I ran to the other side of the car and got in.

The cats' eyes were wide open and staring at me. I looked in the rear view mirror to see that what hair was not wet, was "charged" . . i.e. sticking out from my head. I patted my hair down (still mumbling explicatives), started the car and got the hell out of there. As long as nothing in the complex appeared to be on fire, I did not care what/where the lightening hit.

It was too close for my comfort.

Apart from intermittent rain and wind, my trip home was otherwise uneventful.