I didn't realize the weather had changed until I walked into the corridor and heard the roof reverberate above me. When the six of us had gone out to lunch at noon (to the buffet at Pizza Hut, five or ten miles away, and run into a hellish traffic jam along the way that only a few NASCAR moves on the driver's part got us out of onto our exit, also involving an angry tractor trailer driver, but let's not talk about that) it had been beautiful, blue, cloudless, and hot as hell. One of those 92-feels-like-96 days, according to weather.com, when the humidity is well above the percentage Uncle Sam takes out of every paycheck. I wilted on contact. Fortunately the restaurant was well air-conditioned, and walking back into our building once we returned was like walking into a refrigerator. Felt good. And that was that, until my mentor called me up to tell me not to bother coming in to our 10 pm machine time unless it stopped storming. Storm?, I thought, and left our windowless prison to reconnoiter. Up the corridor is a small courtyard where I like to eat lunch on sunny days. Today was manifestly not one of them. Some time over the past three hours the sky had turned black as pitch, and the rain was sheeting down, drumming on the glass wall like an army marching. Lightning flickered every few seconds, and the thunder was a constant rumbling underscore to the whole scene. I wondered where the sun had gone - it looked like twilight at 8 pm rather than the bright sky we should have had at 3 in the afternoon. We heard later there was a tornado watch out for our area, though we are about as far removed from Kansas topography and weather patterns as you can imagine. By the time I left work, the thunder had ceased, though the rain still pattered down, and returned during the night to rattle against my window like a lullaby.