The weather was a "super weird, but ya never know because this is Minnesota and thus the strangest weather place in the world" kind of day. After work we went for a run around one of the lakes and you could just feel a storm brewing. And now...this calls for my very favorite movie line ever...
From Mean Girls:
Karen: Well, I'm kinda psychic. I have a fifth sense.
Cady: What do you mean?
Karen: It's like I have ESPN or something. My breasts can always tell when it's going to rain.
Cady: Really? That's amazing.
Karen: Well, they can tell when it's raining.
Yea, it was that kind of night. We got home from the run and these two were acting bizarre...
Now that in itself isn't that odd, because they're normally fairly bizarre, but it was like weird bursts of calm and sporadic barking at nothing, for no reason.
And then we heard the siren. I tried to convince Jeremy that it was the day when they test the tornado siren, but he wasn't buying it. He was convinced we should pack provisions and run to the basement. If you have seen our basement, you know why I was not so eager to do this. I let him know that he was more than welcome to sit in the basement himself if he wanted, but that I would wait upstairs and watch the news.
To my dear, risk averse, husband, the sky was falling. Literally.
And so we sat upstairs, away from the basement, in a room full of windows, and watched the news. I was my usual skeptical self, assuring him that he had lost his mind, and that nothing was going to happen. He was his usual self....Chicken Little.
And then the sky did fall. Sort-of. At about 8:45, these suckers started falling from the sky...
So maybe this time Chicken Little was right. But there was no tornado. And thus no need for the basement. Or provisions. But dang, that was some crazy hail!