Rain Rain Go Away

And as if an earthquake were not quite enough, a hurricane was headed our way. Hurricane Irene. That bitch.

Always the optimist, I ignored all the hype for days, even as heavy rain began to make its way up the coast to Scott's neck of the woods. Gamely hopped in my car after work to trek over hill and dale, blueberry farm and lakeside community, in torrential, teeming rain to Scott's town where we were supposed to go out for dinner.

In a complete funk and what I would describe as a pisspot mood, I pulled into Scott's driveway hours later to find him standing on his front step, waiting for me to arrive and holding a gigantic umbrella. He ran out to my car and greeted me as I opened the door.

"I would choose starvation over going out to dinner," I said as I grabbed my overnight bag and let him escort me to the door of the house. I dumped my bags on the bench in his room that I've claimed for my own and promptly curled up on the bed in my work clothes, assuming a grousing posture.

Scott began to explain. "Dear, I have not been grocery shopping. The girls have been at my sister's so I have maybe a Cup O' Noodles and a pack of crackers."

"I don't care."

He curled up with me and let me brood in silence. Occassionally he'd look over at me scowling and look away quickly before I'd hiss.

After a few minutes, and starting to sound patronizing, but just a little, probably out of hunger, he said, "I can go to Mike's Subs and get us some sandwiches. Maybe something warm. Or a salad. You like their Chicken Caesar. No onions, like you like."

"I know I like their salads." No help from me. In a funkola like no other was I. It is not everyday you nearly hydroplane into a lake.

A few minutes later I abruptly get up and begin to peel off my work clothes. Scott thinks I am getting into my pajamas, which, I won't lie, seemed like the most appealing option I had before me.

He jumps up ready to leap into action. "Should I call Mike's? What would you like?"

"No, I'm putting on something comfortable. We have to go out."

"No really, I can go out! Stay put! What can I order for you?"

"Scott, unless Mike's Subs has a bottle of wine they can sell to you, we need to go out."

"Oh. Is that what you want? Ok, then I guess we'll go to Doyle's."

Yes we will. For wine, food, football and Irene. Crappy dinner company that she is.