Bracing for the Storm

Saturday, we all took our time getting going. It was a nice, slow-paced day. I grilled some pork and potatoes for lunch, and we sort of went our separate ways for a little while.

Yvette and I had a movie date: The Housemaid. A tense thriller about a struggling woman who lands a job as a live-in maid for an uber-wealthy family. Let’s just say things are not what they first appear. It’s really hard to talk about the film without spoiling key plot points. You get the usual affairs and candle-lit creepiness you’d expect from a movie like this. The mystery was captivating, and we both enjoyed it. I knew it would be right up Yvette’s alley.

That evening, Noah, Nadia, and Niles were over, and we just visited and had a good ol’ time. It was exactly how I like a Saturday to play out. Just a damn good day.

Sunday, I woke up and decided I was not ready for the day yet, so I laid back down. I wasn’t planning on sleeping for three more hours, but that’s what I did. Oops.

I got up and took another lukewarm shower. Damnit—I needed a plumber. Wide awake, I grilled Tee a couple of beer brats, then we went over to Yvette’s parents’ house for burgers and football. The Texans versus the Patriots. Sloppy game. The Texans looked and played like shit. So many turnovers. The poor quarterback looked like he was actively helping the Patriots win. It was a sad sight.

After the game, I decided a little manual labor would help, so I elected myself to bury the irrigation hole after the kid fixed the leak. No need for him to do the heavy work when I was perfectly able.

That night, while scrolling Facebook, I made a disturbing discovery about someone I knew as a child. Arrested for child pornography involving a one-year-old. I was sick to my stomach. The weird little boy I knew growing up had become some sort of monster. What in the hell happened to him over the years? What kind of sickness warps a mind into something like that? He has a reputable family—a good upbringing, to my knowledge. What the fuck. The revelation haunted me all night. It haunted me the following day. Sick fuck.

MLK Day! Woot!! No work for us. It was a pretty uneventful day. What did happen was our water suddenly became hot again. The heater stopped constantly running, and we could no longer hear the sound of water flowing. It was like there was a buildup in the line or tank that finally blew through. A mystery to us, but at least we had warm water again.

When the week finally rolled around, I was back out on campus—my first time since before Christmas break. It was nice catching up with people and talking about how the holiday season treated everyone. I realized I did kind of miss the campus family.

One thing on everyone’s mind throughout the week was the pending weather. We were supposed to receive a good winter storm with the potential for ice and snow. The last bad weather we had was five years ago, now known as “The Winter Apocalypse of 2021.” Everyone has PTSD from that experience. I know I do. I lost power for three days and froze my ass off.

The campus and the town were bracing for impact. Grocery stores were a madhouse. The fear was real. My department was tasked with finding pallets of bottled water for all the dorms—back-and-forth trips to Sam’s. Lucky for me, I wasn’t part of that mess. Just a bystander.

When winter hits in Texas, it doesn’t gradually creep in—it springs forth like a jack-in-the-box. No one is ever really prepared. After a few store runs, I feel like my family should be able to make it through the weekend. Yvette’s dad added to my firewood supply. We have plenty of water and food. Hopefully, the power grid holds up. That’s all we can do—hope.