i’ve been in hairicane season for about six years now, which means the top of my head is under constant surveillance by the storm center, manned normally by my son, and occasionally by riff raff.
well, the other day my son flew hairicane reconnaissance over the crown of my head and reported that the eye wall was well defined, the outer bands were expanding, and it appeared to have grown into a classic cat-3 bald spot.
i love my son to death, but there are times when his weather channel obsession doesn’t translate well to humor at the old man’s expense, something i could do without as i move into my stormy, cranky years.
2 comments:
now that's funny
you must be in the tropical depression group.
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