I’m heading home to North Carolina for a few days, and the forecast says BASICALLY NOTHING BUT THUNDERSTORMS, the thick and fast and Summerkind that cancel swim meets.  I just cannot wait. While I grew up not stoked on storms, feared them in fact,   I now live in LA where it is basically Pleasantville 95% of the time to the point where you just sort of hum around in your car in pursuit of kale — and so  I LONG FOR STORMS. I want them to shake the house and flood the yard and trap me inside. I can’t wait to smell them coming, watch the parking lot darken as clouds gather and erupt as I hide inside the TJMaxx, exit seven minutes later into lavender, bikram life.