It's time once again for another edition of Chesapeake Bay Woman's Guide to Whatever, which in this case is Hurricane
Above is a shot of
(Please pardon CBW while she scoffs at that nor'easter label, then howls with laughter at it, then ultimately sheds a tear or twelve because she remembers that, much like the episode captured above, she has neglected to secure any and all items from her dock in spite of the advance warning last night from her neighbor. Carry on.)
1. The most important thing to remember when there's a threat of a hurricane is this: be completely ignorant of the shituation as long as possible. The later you find out, the less time there is to
2. If possible, schedule the (possible or probable) hurricane for one of your busiest weeks in the year for your paying job, the onset of the new school year, fall sports practices at two different schools in two different counties and the four thousand meetings they require of parents of rising freshman, as if we're not already gravely concerned with the fact that we just left high school ourselves and now we have children old enough to attend.
To truly appreciate this extra-special experience, be sure to schedule your disaster during a time of trying hormonal changes which render one crying one moment and Tazmanian Devil-like the next.
3. Become familiar with the stages of Hurricane Preparedness which are as follows:
An entire bag of Gibbles potato chips, family size
Continued denial until they start talking about evacuation plans at work
Still More of the Denial
A hot dog for breakfast, and you don't even eat hot dogs. Or breakfast.
Irrational anxiety over things unrelated to the hurricane
More potato chips
Anger when everything goes wrong, and it always does (a story for another day)
Surrender to all of these things out of your control.
Listen to Que Sera Sera as sung by Doris Day.
Cry that you are the only one in your office who has ever heard of Doris Day.
Chips and salsa.
Whatever, there's nothing I can do.
Acceptance/que sera, sera.
4. Whatever you do, learn from your past mistakes which include leaving your patio umbrella in your glass-topped table during hurricane-force winds and ignoring all the warning signs of disaster which included a sideways glimpse of the table scooting this way and that during the storm, when the instruction manual on the table you actually purchased said nothing about scooting abilities.
5. Most of all, relax. Chances are
6. Wonder what portion of your brain serves as the attic to store such words as "nay" when you can barely string a sentence together using modern-day words, terms and phrases such as "scooting abilities" of a patio table and "Doris Day."
7. Most of all, don't worry. You're already stressed out anyway, so
Take a gander at all that shattered glass below the table above. It was a mere eight or so months later that I got around to cleaning it all up, and that was only because I had people coming in for Blog Fest.
Stay tuned for the next edition of Chesapeake Bay Woman's Guide to Whatever, when "whatever" will be "How to fix a camper that she broke--nay ruined--when trying to prepare in darkness for the hurricane that may or may not hit."