stormy weather

This morning I woke up and headed to the store for some last minute non-perishable food shopping before this Hulk storm arrives. So hard to know what will really unfold. Nobody here wants to look like a panicked jerk, but no one wants to look like an ignorant jerk, either. So people are splitting the difference and buying giant jugs of beer with every gallon of water. I bought so many delicious snack items, my refrigerator now looks like I am a soccer mom of five children. Even if the storm merely strolls through like a Sunday driver, who would ever regret that kind of lasting snack situation?

This was the scene from a friend's local market:

Girlfriend's not sweatin' it.

On my way home, I passed neighbors wrapping their houses in plastic and dragging carts of provisions. Then I noticed a whole other pre-storm initiative taking place in front of a local school:

I stared at this van in admiration for several minutes. The phone number, the illustrated gum guys, the business plan, "who you gonna call!!!"—what a dream boat. Meanwhile, I imagine the principal pounding his desk saying, "Buy water, seal up the grates to the basement, tape the windows, buy bread—SO much bread— and for the love of safety, remove every last piece of rock hard, smushed in, possibly now gray or black chewing gum from every desk and from any remaining carpeting BEFORE IRENE HITS!"

I tried to get one of the Busters to pose with the van and he dove out of the frame. Fame must take its toll on these guys.

After that photo op I headed to the park for my last taste of freedom before house arrest. Then came home to deal with some last details. Like the garbage. Took that out, then, staring at the cans which are right outside my apartment as I am on the ground floor, I realized I will likely see said garbage hurled at my windows in a few hours. That will be exciting.

I also filled my bathtub with water because people keep telling me to do that. "You will be thankful when there's no running water." Maybe. More likely I will forget I filled it up until I try and take my next shower. I will probably be more thankful that sewage from soon-to-be blocked storm drains will now have a harder time gurgling up into my home. At heart, I am just a Hurricane No-Regrets Robot. If I don't do these things, the storm will be worse. I know this. For now, the tub just sits there looking sad and chilly. The cats are tight-roping along the edge looking like drivers doing the drunk-walk test.

My mom keeps talking about how my apartment will probably flood because it's on the ground floor. "Mom, you seem almost excited for it to flood." She laughed. I told her I was going to put my terrible, ancient, buggy, HP f-you computer printer right next to the window and pray for storm damage so I can get a new one guilt-free. As her daughter I inherited her "But it still works just fine!" spirit/complex. Which really means, "It takes 30 minutes to print out one page, but that just gives me a chance to cook dinner/call my mom/watch an entire television program!" etc.

Okay. Time to batten down the hatches. Or, rather, walk to dinner because this storm sure is taking its sweet time arriving.