The first is the one we're going to focus on here today.
And if you're wondering, I didn't post this morning because I was sleeping in, like a big fat lazy slob, who I heard on my radio this morning not once but twice. So why can't I escape the sound of Fat Fuck?
Anyway. Back on subject.
Lovely Rita is headed this way. More or less this way--the current storm tracks show her moving well westward of us, but that puts us
- On the eastern wall of the eye, where you get the 'whip' of storms and
- Directly in her path if she decides to turn eastwards.
And storms never track the way the forecasters (I hate you Jim Cantore) say they are, though JC seems to have a knack for drawing storms right toward him, and he's way out west in TX, so maybe we'll be safe. Daft bugger better not set foot past Toledo Bend. Hurricanes move erratically even on land, so I know that I can't trust it to stay OVER THERE.
I distrust Rita for a couple of reasons, actually. Vis--
- She's got a girl's name
- It's the same name as my truck, whom I also don't particularly trust
- I once dated a girl in college named Rita, and she made my life miserable.
There, three good reasons. And now the fourth is headed toward me, bearing a girl who I used to date in college AND my truck's name. I swear, this one is going to get me, I can just feel it in my long bones.
So, the house is battened down. I've walked around it outside several times, making sure that anything that can blow down or into a window or a vehicle is secured somewhere, including the swing, and I've even covered up my rather expensive equipment out in my shop, because they're forecasting upwards of 20" of rain for us in the next few days, and I don't want to walk out there Monday afternoon to find everything soaking wet.
I'd also like to be able to walk out there and find everything intact and where I left it, rather than spread across several acres of my back yard, but that's another story entirely.
We've got plenty of potable water as well as 'grey' water for flushing toilets and bathing. We've even got the tub filled, in case, oh, I don't know, someone decides they really need a bath real quick. We've got more candles than a cathedral at Christmas, and we even have a fluorescent lantern to go with the floating flashlight. There's plenty of canned food in the house, and the wife went on a spree and stocked us up further this morning. We now have enough canned Ravoli, Spaghetti-Os and granola bars to last us straight through either an invasion of the living dead or the aftermath of a particularly bad hurricane. We also have a manual can opener as well as a box of matches and about a thousand lighters, for you nay-sayers out there (sys) who were about to ask me that. We're ready to survive this thing, including the loss of water, electricity and/or cable for a few days.
See, this is the one certainty in the whole equation--the loss of power. Everything else in uncertain, including the path Rita might take and any tornadoes that she might spin off. Gasoline isn't even uncertain right now, as I've got about ten gallons out in the shop. The one certainy is this: Our local power grid goes down at the drop of a big pine cone, so I know we'll be without at some point, probably tonight, likely on through the next few days. This of course means that this will be my last post for a few days. Don't panic, though--I'll be thinking of you guys, and will likely be sitting here in front of a cold, dark monitor trembling my way through cathode ray withdrawal.
Listening to the storm rage.
Wishing I had electricity.
Wondering what sort of pain I could inflict on the power people for taking their time getting out here.
Gonna go watch the last two episodes of Lost: Season 1 before the DVD player has to be hoooked up to the gerbils.
Stay put, Jim Cantore. This is your only warning.