Second major storm in a week

It's apocalyptic outside - pounding rain, intermittant electricity, a constant wail of sirens. I couldn't resist throwing on a jacket and taking a walk.

That's right - a woman walking by herself in the dark. In most cities, that would be asking for an assault. One of the things I love about Louisville is the crazily low crime rate. This is the safest city I've ever lived in. Well, unless you're within 500 feet of me on the 4th of July. In my defense, I still have all my fingers and toes - and so do the rest of you. Okay, except for John, but that's not my fault.

There's something about powerful weather that makes me want to be in it. I once sat in a windowsill watching a tornado rip down the street while my family shouted at me from the safety of the basement. No summer passes without me hanging out on the lawn in shorts and a tank top during a warm, heavy rain. Tonight, it's a clammy 60 degrees out. It'll be down to 30 by tomorrow.

My jeans soaked through within seconds of stepping outside, but it took a good six minutes before my shoes leaked.

The nearest stoplight is flashing red on all corners. I saw a car spin out of control and finally stop facing the wrong way in traffic. An ambulance zoomed around it, adding to the cacaphony of sirens.

There's something etheral about dark, empty parking lots illuminated only by flickering store signs. Any second the lights could fail entirely. The part of my brain raised on movies and TV expects vampires to crawl out of the sewers in search of human victims. After all, in Louisville Zombie season doesn't start until August.