Well, it's that time of year. Hurricane season. We don't usually get them too bad up here in the Chesapeake Bay, but every once in a while you get something like the 2003 season when Hurricane Isabel came to call. Raise your hand if you remember Baltimore's Inner Harbor being underwater. Anyone? (Bueller? Bueller?)
Well, I do. Now we're awaiting the coming of Hurricane Ida -- or already feeling her effects, depending on whether you watch NOAA's weather reports or weather.com's.
Normally, I sit snug in my apartment and shake my fist at these puny little hurricanes. Now, I wish I'd never baited them. It's been raining gorillas and taxicabs (to quote my favorite charter boat captain) since last night and the wind and the waves are kicking up even in sheltered D.C. harbor. The boat is rocking to such a degree that I'm drinking bottled water because my cup would have fallen over by now. Freaky. I am, right now, watching the liquid in my bottle of water jiggle. The wind is howling and something outside (I'm guessing on the boat next door -- if it was mine, it'd sound much louder) is flapping against their hull. Walking around is almost like being underway, so much is the boat being rocked by the wind.
I, however, am secure in the fact that I have checked my dock lines (three times), my galoshes are ready to go and so is my foul weather jacket. (OK, so in a lack of preparedness moment I left the pants in the car. Sue me.) My heater is running full blast. I think I'll make it through the storm. Plus, I don't have to walk all the way to the bathroom ashore for a shower -- I can just step outside with my shampoo. (That was a joke. Please do not attempt to shower in the rain. Your hair will never be the same.)
I just wish the darn boat would stop rocking!
Doesn't this storm realize that I'm trying to get some work done in here? Jeez, Ida.