For sure, they don’t start out much worse… now do they? Already I’m coping with the reality that my Coffee is the slow- reaction kind, I’ve had to deal with Hertz and “the car that must be returned” at 7-freaking-30, oh… and there’s also this hurricane shiznizzle.
So today also has the added fun of buying the hurricane supplies- water, ramen noodles and other easy-to-prepare foods, propane bottles, candles, batteries, extra beach towels, and liquor. Because, you know, anesthetization is the best way to get through these beasts. Sadly, this time I won’t have Cheryl’s Snickerdoodles coming over from next door, but I can still have Rum.
Nobody can take that away.
I’m also trying to find out if there will be any sandbag handouts in Poke Co…for the leaky garage door of course. And, then there’s the question of whether I need to board the southern exposure windows, or just duct tape the crap out of them and pray for the best. And, of course, as if this wasn’t already shaping up into the party of all time, none of the “Three Damned Dogs” will go outside to do their business if there’s even a mist falling from the sky. Torrential downpours? Ha! Can I just sandbag their behinds? That’s a flood of epic proportions that I know I’m not prepared for. Oh, wait, this just got better, because as I’m tyyping I just realized that “This Old House” has no place I can turn into a Safe Room.
OMG… we’re all gonna die… commence running in circles and flapping hands vigorously. Is it too late to relocate to somewhere with no natural disasters? Is Delta still ready? Will they take the dogs? It’s probably still dry enough to get them empty before we flee.
Please Lord, give me strength… because this week, with Bob and his weather OCD, 3 lunatic dogs, and Irene on her way? I’m gonna need it.