Me, Myself, and Irene

I was really torn about what really stupid blog post title I should use for this one.

My sister and I were really fond of, "Come On, Irene. At This Moment, YOU RUIN EVERYTHING."


"Why does love always feel like a hurricane? A hurricane? A hurricane? Better go and get your water."

But instead I settled for that Jim Carrey movie. Whatever.

I hardly ever know what is going on in the news. I ran into one of my friends in the lounge in New York and he told me of his plans to visit Florida that weekend - but how they were dashed because of Irene coming to town.

I thought he was talking about his mom.

And then I went about my merry business and went home (because it's my favorite thing). I spent a whopping 36 hours at home before I realized Irene was no one's mother, and that she was about to completely ruin my plans of having a life outside of my job. I was going to be on reserve that Sunday. The day she was supposed to hit. So I had to fly back to New York. Into the hurricane. Does this seem counterproductive to anyone else? While most were evacuating, I was playing Helen Hunt and taking the Dorothy II into the eye of the storm. I was not of good cheer about any of it.

It turned into a weekend of waiting, and a lot of eating. A lot of reading, and a lot of pajama dwelling. Nancy made some homemade hummus for us, and we at a lot of various chips and I thought about getting ice cream.

I was really excited about it. Maybe because I did watch Twister too many times and I find Dante's Peak to be thrilling instead of cheesy.

I wish I could tell you that I didn't sleep through the hurricane. But that would be a lie.

The morning after, Nancy and I ventured out to see the damage. Everyone slowly started creeping out of their buildings for the first time in days. It made me feel like we were all the tiny munchkins that Glinda sings to after the tornado hit in Wizard of Oz. (Why am I making so many tornado references? It was a hurricane. And by hurricane I mean tropical storm).


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