Day before the storm:
For all my friends not in the wake of Hurricane Sandy and who are worried about us. Please rest easy. Bob made sure our generator was running, we have a bathtub full of water, our canned goods are safely tucked away, and the sump pump is running. He raked away all the fallen leaves that might have blocked our drains. He pulled out all the flashlights and set approximately 45 spare batteries onto the counter. He bought several gallons of gas to keep the generator running. He tucked away the patio furniture and chopped down any branches in the back yard that looked dangerous.
What did I do? I double checked the wine cellar to make sure it was full, and I bought the game “Strip Chocolate”.
Our children should probably not check on us during the storm…….
Early the day of the storm:
Am I the only one who’s noticed just how happy the weather reporters are on television? Actually, the reporters INSIDE the studio are happy. One woman on Channel 8 looked practically giddy. But from what I can see, the only people in danger right now are the poor fools reporting on the weather from outside. For some reason they all seem compelled to stand close to a raging ocean or flooding street. I keep having visions of a blonde weather reporter flying off into the distance while the camera man watches in horror.
Afternoon of the storm:
While most stores in the area are out of milk and bread, apparently the Walmart in Centreville, VA is now out of ammunition. I think I’ll just stay at home for a while.
Evening of the storm:
The lights started flickering and I realized all I had put out were flashlights, no candles. So I ran around the house and collected all the candles. Then I realized they are all scented. Naturally, different scents. If I have to light these candles, I’m going to go into a coma within 5 minutes.
Late evening of the storm:
How I can tell I’m annoying my husband: I made him listen to me read out loud from Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass”. After my dramatic recital, he suggested I hold my tongue and say “I was born on a pirate’s ship”. Apparently, it comes out sounding like, “I was born on a pile of shit.” This much is true – men never outgrow their sixth grade sense of humor. Especially when you are on your second bottle of wine and are quoting from “Leaves of Grass.”