It was already 70° when I got up at 6 and the sky looked wrong.
The wind spent the night blowing things open, over, around, and down. It wasn’t the usual thundering roar, reminiscent of life in a 9-by-40 singlewide next to the railroad tracks; more like a conversation at the next table that you’re trying not to hear.
“No, no, no. First, you cut off the head. Then the arms and legs. Bag ’em up separate. Easier to carry.”
Last night’s eclipse, which we could not see, was accompanied by a “Health Alert Due to Blowing Dust,” which we could.
We had forgotten to turn on the bedroom humidifier before retiring, and when I arose my snout was having flashbacks to the glorious days when my friends and I supercharged our Saturday nights (and occasionally Sunday mornings) with a blend of Russian vodka and Peruvian marching powder.
The Duck! City hasn’t updated its air-quality widget since Friday, so I lack the deets. But I’m certainly getting the general drift of things. It’s not a great day to be a woodland firefighter, for instance. That big mother up by Las Vegas is only getting bigger, and it’s got a few smaller ones to keep it company.
Here’s NMFireInfo:
Dry thunderstorms in the afternoon will likely cause very active fire behavior and increase potential for fire spread. The fire is expected to remain active, with critically dry fuels and near-record temperatures.
Oh, good. I can’t wait for Memorial Day weekend. Where the fireworks stands at? FreeDumb®, etc.