One time, when I was four, my mom gathered me up for a tornado threat.
She holed me up, in the basement, and put my dad's (OLD) football helmet on my head. I remember sitting downstairs, no lights on, and waiting for it to pass. It all semed so interesting, at the time. It hasn't seemed any LESS interesting, in the times it's happened since.
Helmet time in the basement makes me think of anticipation. I love anticipation.
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