Sound and Fury, Signifying…No Hearing

I awoke to strange lights flashing through my bedroom blinds while it was still dark. And the mysterious rumbling sounds in the distance had me worried that the trash truck had come early—when I hadn’t yet put my bins to the curb.

But I was pretty sure it wasn’t aliens out there roaming. For one thing, they aren’t that noisy or rude. Like the Air Force when it sends fighter jets screaming too low over my house at odd—and unnecessary—hours.

I live in a drought-plagued desert, so there’s a reason why I didn’t realize this confounding sound and myriad light sighting was actually an early morning thunderstorm.

Hence, my brain doesn’t automatically track to rain, especially when I haven’t checked the weather forecast in days. I’ve been in a fog, writing an intense and complicated action scene for my upcoming sixth novel in my Other Worldly series, Altogether Alien.

Actually, given that, I should have awakened thinking a volcano erupted, but I don’t want to give too much of the plot away.

Kind of like the rumblings of our storm, which didn’t initially include rain. The first drizzle arrived during my first cup of coffee but stopped long enough for me to drag my trash bins out, though the lightning didn’t let up.

With all the drama of flashing lights and ominous approaching rumble, I’d expected a deluge of water pouring from my rooftop, and when it didn’t occur, it brought to mind the expression, sound and fury, signifying nothing.

A favorite phrase from Shakespeare’s Macbeth: “Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.”

Come to think of it, I should use this in Altogether Alien to describe a certain alien villain and his colluding band of all-too-human braggart bigots, some in Congress.

Anyway, while I waited for it to actually be a rainstorm to accompanying the surprisingly frequent forked lightning, I got to thinking about the ill-fated timing of this storm when I was supposed to be walking my dog, because he for sure wasn’t letting me forget it as I got my second cup of coffee.

You’d think the thunder might bother the skittish pooch. But apparently that’s only when a storm happens in the scary dark of night, not when he’s supposed to get to recreate and water the bushes himself.

And unlike my latest novel in progress, with a theme of animal communication capabilities, I’m not able to actually tell my dog why we can’t yet leave for his morning walk. Because unlike a certain species in my Other Worldly novels that can manipulate weather—though dust devils are their specialty as opposed to rain-related phenomena—I can’t control the flipping weather.

But I did wonder, was the timing of this storm in solidarity with Hurricane Ian hitting Florida? Especially once Mother Nature finally got serious about the Vegas Valley and we were finally hit with a deluge of rain to accompany the lightning and thunder, but curiously no wind like we usually have with desert storms.

And I admit a tiny part of my brain thought, as I laid in bed wondering what all the fuss was about before my critters forced me to rise to feed them, was this a supernatural protest?

Was all the sound and fury, signifying nothing, a response to the postponement of the much anticipated and long-awaited final January 6 committee hearing due to the inconvenient timing of a hurricane? It’s bad enough having to now postpone my dog’s walk while he pesters me relentlessly about it.

Because it’s pouring, again. With one particular crashing boom of thunder no longer distant. And almost as loud as those AF fighter jets. Timing is not always my strong suit, so good thing I got my trash bins out when I did.

As my protagonist Rowan Layne would say, it’s now a three-pod morning. This third coffee pod flavor is called butter crunch, which sounds downright noisy for coffee. Isn’t butter supposed to be soft? That last crack of thunder certainly wasn’t, and almost made me spill my coffee.

And Hurricane Ian is now at category 5, as opposed to 3, so I’m sending vibes into the universe that everyone will remain safe and sound.

Soon I will likely hear the familiar soft sound of a pinging text incoming on my phone. Will it be a Vegas Valley flashflood warning, or Mom giving me a weather report complete with cloud and rain emoji?

Do you know what I really need? Indictments raining down, hearing or no hearing today. Seriously, it is past time to take out the trash. And incinerate it.

I’m beginning to feel like a volcano on the verge of erupting, waiting for real-life villains to get their due. But that seems to be taking as long as a certain mountain in Washington State, as opposed to Washington, DC, which hasn’t erupted in 3,500 years.

One hopes we won’t have to wait as long for the postponed hearing as we likely will for another morning thunderstorm in Vegas bringing much-needed precipitation.

WORDLE Spoiler Alert P.S.: I got the puzzle in two this morning—almost as rare an occurrence as an early morning thunderstorm—and I did it by starting with the word storm. But I wouldn’t recommend it, because it’s a definite fluke of nature that I went from there to the correct word. Or that I got today’s puzzle at all. And no, the word is not fluke.

And the weather report said this storm would end by now. They were wrong. Constant sound and light fury, but no wind, and no more rain—at the moment. My dog is peeved. I know the feeling.




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