People are always asking "in a time of crisis what would I grab if I had to run out of the house?"
The answer to that is your loved ones. And by that I mean the people in your life. I worried about my cats immediately after the tornado, but during, I was worried about my people. Liz and I were standing together, but I was terrified about where David and Alyssa were and what they were experiencing. The rest, as it were, was ancillary. (JIC you were wondering, Zora paused for about 10 seconds from eating supper, and the other two were so far hidden up behind the couch that it took me a long time to find them. And when Pearl finally came out she was shaking all over.)
When the water started pouring in the ceiling, my first inclination was to save the quilts, then the bed, then I took stock of everything else. It was Elizabeth who noticed that our shoes were getting soaked.
And then as things calmed down, we had the water flow mostly contained, I had a rising panic that my yarn was going to be ruined. I kept going in the studio to check things out by flashlight. All night long I did this. And while I couldn't move it all at a moment's notice, I might be able to save it if it came down to it. I could throw things in trash bags, which were at minimum water proof, to stave off most of the damage. So I kept vigil, and luckily that room didn't spring a leak and everything seemed to be ok.
And now that we're mostly moved and settled in, let me say that I would mourn the loss of my kitties, I would mourn the loss of my art work (that created by me and that that I purchased), but I honestly don't know how I could deal with the loss of my family. It's been awful enough to have everything ripped up around me and no time to prepare.
And in the end, all of that is just stuff.
Today's picture is of Pearl exploring the loom in my new yarn room. I love how you can see that she's using her tail for balance.