Dispatches from the Bathtub: Fear and Loathing in Indiana

Dispatch 1: Fear and Loathing in Indiana

June 14, 2010

Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m sitting on my bathroom floor in the dark, realizing it really is time to clean my bathroom because that dank smell isn’t normal, and crossing my fingers the battery on my laptop lasts longer than the power outage (damn small computers and their light yet lacking batteries).  I was reading by flashlight, but decided to switch to writing (before resignedly moving onto reading psychology articles, which is really what I should be doing with such unfortunate free time).

What has brought me to such a state, you ask?  Good question.  After being annoyed by and mostly ignoring the strong storm warnings on the television, I was finally forced out of my apathy by a tornado warning informing me that a tornado had touched down and was sighted some 20 miles outside of Bloomington, heading in our general direction.  Lovely.  So, I quickly looked up what to do when a tornado comes about (because, having previously lived only in populated cities, tornadoes were nothing more than wild fantasies created by filmmakers and writers to further their plots), damned the fact that there is no basement in my apartment and surely this building does not qualify as “sturdy”, grabbed my laptop and a few other essentials and headed for the bathroom.  I then proceeded to sit on a towel (because I roll high class like that) in the bathtub and tuned into the national weather radio on my computer.  Then, phew, the tornado warning expired, and we were safe, though I could still hear the loud rumblings of a storm mixed with sirens wailing in their pursuit of victims or some such whatever, and then BAM.  No power.  Forgetting that no power means no internet, I fiddled with windows media player trying to figure out why the radio live stream was no longer working.  This, my friends, is what the age of the internet has done to me.

Because the tornado warning guide I read before the internet left me said I should listen to the NOAA weather radio, I attempted to get my alarm clock radio to work.  Of course not, complete piece of shit that has only been playing country and Christian lately anyway.  My life then briefly entered a scene from MacGyver, with me, obviously, playing the lead: Smoke alarms use 9 volt batteries just like clock radios!  Clever, Katie, clever.  Use the chair, get the flashlight, WTF smoke alarm why won’t you open so I can retrieve your battery (that sounds like a bad pick up line), check the other smoke alarm, yes!, where’s the chair, no, get the stool, shit, whatever, get the fucking battery out, damnit! Battery goes in the alarm clock and…nothing.  I don’t even know how that happens.

With that, I find myself again in the bathroom, on the floor, in the dark, drinking a beer, and realizing the importance of things like extra 9 volt batteries, transistor radios, flash lights, candles, things that don’t require electricity, and living in places that are not the shit hole that is Indiana.  Further, I realized that while I like to think of myself as laughing at all of this nonsense in a very unmoved sort of way, I was actually (sort of) scared shitless for a few moments there, just short of minor panic, and a little worried I was alone and unprepared.  I’m sure the storm will pass and eventually the power will go back on (hopefully before I sweat off all of that weight I was hoping to lose, damn freaking 80 something degrees and 90% humidity at 9:14 at night) and all will be mostly inconsequential, but I’m not quite confident enough to embody that sense of indestructibility that allows me to chuckle and shrug it off so easily.  I’d be perfectly content if this tornado thing never happened again.  And, really, I could do with some electricity again here.  What will I do when my laptop, ipod, and cell phone all give out?  If not swept up in a swirling rage of wind and rain, die of boredom most likely.