It's hard to describe what today's sandstorm, which swept across the country in a war-worthy stealth move overnight, feels like exactly. But I will try.
It's like the blanket of a snowstorm, but warm. Eyes burn, lungs are heavy and the weird, foggy glow of the outdoors permeates everything. You do not want to be outside; you don't quite know what to do with yourself.
It's very dystopian - and not a little disturbing, no matter how many you've been through. And the sand gets everywhere: dusting the car, your purse and shoes, in your hair and inside your house. There was a haze two floors down, in my underground parking garage. It was spooky down there.
People kind of look at each other, dazed, like 'is this really happening?' People crash on the roads and others postpone trips so that won't happen. Some people wear surgical masks and you think 'should I be doing that'? And then you decide against it. I always threaten to wear swimming goggles when this happens, and if it goes on for the three days they are predicting, I just might.