Panic Monday

Monday morning comes, and so does the wind. And the rain.

Scott is getting the weather first. I stay in touch by text. I know they have not been asked to evacuate but I really wish they had.  But then good luck finding a hotel with 5 dogs and a cat in tow.  There is always my house...

I watch the Weather Channel obsessively. I check and recheck my emergency supplies. I kvetch with Facebook friends endlessly.  It makes the world feel less lonely and scary.  I eat like a p-i-g pig.

Scott and I send occassional texts. Power is off at his house, but the generator is on. A house not far from his has been washed away.  He's lost some tree limbs. 

I am still powered up and have internet and cable. A far better spot for now but I am waiting for the worst.

I decide to take a shower while it is still light out. I would not shower in the dark and candles are not exactly an option. But I want to keep taking showers. You never know when you won't have a choice. May as well remain daisy fresh as long as possible.

When I step out of the shower I hear the familiar hum of a generator. I look outside to see the neighbors all scrambling to plug in.  My lights are on but I am sure I'm next to go.  I dry my hair for good measure. I get dressed in something that I can run around in and not care that it gets wet. 

My lights flicker.

But that is it.

I can no longer stomach the Weather Channel so I decide to watch something tragic. Atonement wins out over Titanic and kills off a few hours. But again, I check and recheck my emergency supplies. I kvetch with Facebook friends endlessly.  I eat like a p-i-g pig.

And still my lights are on.  I look around the neighorhood. It has burst to life with the sound of generators. I am one of 4 houses with my lights still on. How can that be?

With endless hours ahead of me, I turn to my DVR for more entertainment. I tune into Grey Gardens because there is nothing like a little amusing mother-daughter pathos to get you through the day. And throughout the film, again I check and recheck my emergency supplies. I kvetch with Facebook friends endlessly. I eat like a p-i-g pig.

I return to the Weather Channel hoping for some news that the storm has fizzled and I have nothing to worry about. A call from work that we are not to report due to the emergency confirms that I'll have no such luck.

The suggestion is that we find an interior room and close all the doors. That way there are no windows and no flying debris can whip through your house and impale you.

And interior room?  I am sorry. Do I live in the Bat Cave? 

Also, this interior room should be in the lowest possible floor of the house. So a falling tree will have had its fall broken on its way to squish you. Another lovely thought.

Well, the lowest floor of the house, which indeed has no windows, is also the basement, which will be filling with water. I could drown or get squished. Squishing sounds faster and less torturous.

As I settle in for the night, I make an attempt. I make a bed for myself in the second floor center hall and close the doors. I crate Gidget and attempt to confine Trinket. She will have no such thing.  I decide she can roam the water-filled house and take her chances with the debris.

I plug in a night light so that I will know immediately when the electricity has gone out. 

Trinket is hissing at Gidget. The neighborhood generators are loud. The wind is whipping. Trees are thrashing. I can hear things blowing down the street. 

It is going to be a long night.