Saturday the city was abuzz with a nervous excitement due to Irene's anticipated arrival on Sunday. What is it about a storm that generates such bottled energy? I wondered, as I ran to the grocery store and the gas pump and the ATM along with the rest of New England. While filling up my Jeep with gas, the man across from me commented: "Well, if we all blow away in the hurricane at least all our cars will have a full tank of gas."
Turns out, I was a lucky one. My neighborhood did not lose power and despite all reports suggesting the contrary I ended up just being able to treat Sunday like a snow day. I stayed inside all day long, avoided using my cell phone for fear of actually losing power, read a lot, puttered a bit and listened to a fierce storm brewing outside my windows. Like I said. A snow day. Except this time I was wearing shorts and I did not make a pot of chili.
I prepped like a mad woman on Saturday though, fearing the worst:
I carried all of my plants inside, turning my kitchen into a greenhouse. I probably brought a lot of bugs in too, but I'd worked far too hard on my porch garden this summer to see it all blown to bits by one pissed off hurricane.
For good measure I moved, stacked, and shoved all of my porch furniture along the wall of my apartment building. I'm pretty well surrounded by other buildings so I wasn't too worried about losing all of my furniture. Well, okay. Maybe I was:
Nolan watched calmly as I scurried around, watching the sky darken by the minute.
What's the big deal? he seemed to ask. You've already purchased the most essential item to get you through the next 24 hours. Relax already.
And so, I did. Goodnight Irene.
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