Drizzle Storm Irene

This weekend it rained. I am told it was a hurricane.

I was also told I'd lose power for an indefinite period of time during which society would slowly crumble into a dystopian chaos whereby men would be forced to live off of bottled Evian water, Quaker granola bars, and whatever turkeys they could pluck from the side of the road. The American dollar would be replaced with a gold ingot and gasoline generator based barter system where two gasoline generators would be worth roughly two gold ingots or one slightly larger gasoline generator. Trees and power lines would be uprooted and carried great distances by the wind and rain only to be deposited haphazardly across every bridge and intersection forcing people to walk from one side of their small town to the other, many dieing in the process. As events reached an apocalyptic crescendo days would be followed by night, cool temperatures by slightly cool temperatures, and periods of idle boredom by even longer periods of idle boredom. People would start doing puzzles, have thoughtful conversations, or perhaps go to bed early even. I was told things would be different come the storm, and they were. I couldn't get a haircut that day.

I also couldn't go to the gym. Or the grocery store. Or the library. It was raining everywhere so I couldn't go for a bike ride or a hike, and a man -- it turns out -- can only watch so much TV in a day. Especially when it's interrupted constantly with news updates reporting that, yes, it is still raining outside. Everything was closed, and there was no where to go. So lacking better things to do I did what any sane person would do and I cleaned. Vacuuming my apartment came far too easily so I pressed on to wash the shower, do the dishes, and fold a load of laundry. It was ugly and I'm not proud of it, but I did it. I also over turned some cars and a lit a tire fire in the middle of the city, but in truth I do that most weekends.

I got lucky. The storm was nothing more than a passing inconvenience for me whereas, from what I hear, the entire state of Vermont was covered in water which was only followed by mud which was only followed by, I would assume, raccoons and other varmints. And so I get to write this blog post now with full electricity, a full fridge, and pantry still full of Quaker granola bars and fresh plucked turkeys. That's two natural disasters down, bring on the volcanoes.