Watered Down

So, it appears the early bird gets the flight.  My husband (Jimmy) flew out of Nashville for Las Vegas this morning.  We left the homestead at 6:30AM and made our way to BNA via a circuitous route, taking secondary highways and byways to arrive at our destination.  No problem.  No flooding.  But dark clouds and the threat of rain and wind hung in the air along the horizon.  We wasted no time jettisoning his luggage, hugging in quick fashion, and parting for our respective second-half-of-the-mornings trips.

Though a lightning show delayed the plane for an hour or so, Jimmy was able to fly the friendly, or recalcitrant as the case seems to be, skies.  In fact, there was no reply to my recent text query about whether or not his flight had landed, so I'm guessing he's yet en route.  Perhaps he's humming 'Viva, Las Vegas,' happy for the escape from the soggy wetland that is now Tennessee.

My return home should have required 45 minutes of my time.  However, an appalling combination of fatigue, lack of attention, and ignorance of roadways outside of my town, doubled those digits.  Grrr.

Nothing appeared familiar.  When did all of those FOR LEASE warehouse-type buildings materialize?  Why did the Hwy 109 South sign not point to Gallatin as I thought Jimmy had instructed it would?  I didn't remember seeing that huge high school facility on the side of the road?  Of course, I was interacting with my iPhone to pass the time and stay awake -- my nose buried in the posts and statuses (stati?) of my Facebook family.  That could account for why I thought we had gone one way on 840 when, in reality, we had turned in the opposite and less familiar direction!  No wonder the Broad Street/70S exit seemed to arrive before the I-24 exit: it did arrive first!

Finally, finally, finally, after a wrong turn and a long correction followed up with a phone call to my grounded husband at every one of my three main intersections from the airport to home, I pulled the easy-driving though gas-guzzling Yukon into the confines of our tight two-car garage.  My slumbering son still as deeply out of it as he was when we left the house.

Now, parts of the Interstate 40 highway we used this morning are under water.  There are cancellations and long waits at the airport.  I managed to avoid rains and hail; now significant parts of the state are experiencing torrential downpours and submerged streets.  The first big storm in our area has hit during the time it has taken me to arrive at this paragraph.

I still haven't showered.  Now I can't!  Crud.  But I've learned two things.  First, my penchant for seeing the morning just as the sun's rays hit the day are right on.  Jimmy never would have made a noon flight.  Morning is the better part of the twenty-four hour period.  Second, I'm too reliant upon MapQuest and GoogleMaps.  I used to carry an atlas everywhere I went, and I familiarized myself with the route.  I'm sticking that Rand McNally oversize atlas peeking out at me from the book rack in the corner of the living room into the Yukon the moment I get off this couch.

Hang in there Tennessee.  Help is on the way . . . one citizen helping another at a time.  Just like last year during the tornado.  God please be with us.