Well, this is a new one for me. I’ve written about snow storms in the South, but so far, hurricanes have been for those other people on the coast. Apparently, not this time. We are expecting Hurricane Florence to hit sometime after the next forty-eight hours, and she is supposed to be a doozy, heading straight inland with 80 mph winds. (I’m bordering the bright orange to orange colored areas.)
I wasn’t especially concerned until my sister in Greensboro texted me. Here is what she said, paraphrased, “You better get yourself ready, and those fur babies of yours, too. Get gas so you can escape. Have their carriers ready. Make sure you have light, and fill a cooler with ice. Also have cash, and food. Fill your bathtub with water.” Okay, so some of that could have sounded more urgent in my own mind, and some could’ve come from my brother, as well, and oh, the TV.
So I had to ask…escape? Escape where? What’s the cash for? What’s the gas for? What do I put in the cooler, for heaven’s sake? And the bathtub of water? Won’t be drinkin’ that. A wine stock-up, I can see, but that wasn’t on the warning/preparatory list.
The tub water is for flushing. Oh, yeah. Good plan. The gas and cash are in case a tree takes out my roof, and I have to take the “kids” and stay in a motel. Food, also, a good plan, and ice cream won’t hold. The ice and cooler’s for wine, I guess, though I’m good with room temperature. So maybe it’s for milk and hard-boiled eggs.
Now I’m getting sort of nervous, and then my neighbor tells me when Hugo struck back in the day, she was without power for six (6!) days. So I’ve gathered up all my yard art and bird feeders to save them from blowing all over the yard. I’ve turned my deck furniture on its sides, and yes, I got gas, cash, and will fill the tub tomorrow. Hoo-boy.
I just hope all this is for naught. Meanwhile, I may just be making a wine run, as well.
Horton Hears Herself 