No. It’s not the number of days until school begins. Or even the number of shopping days until Christmas.
It’s the number of days until we can stop hoarding huge quantities of liquor and breathe without the threat of Jim Cantore showing up in our town.
Along the Gulf Coast, today is known as the first day of hurricane season.
June 1st is always a noteworthy day. We celebrate it by purchasing huge quantities of water, batteries, generators, chain saws, and alcoholic beverages.
Every hurricane season I can remember has contained a bit of dread, a bit of excitement, and smatterings of sheer terror.
This year will only be different because I firmly believe we are dealing with one ticked off lady who is carrying a huge grudge against mankind in general.
I believe Mother Nature and the earth are conspiring to upchuck all humans and somehow remove us from this planet.
All you have to do is look around and you can see the pms-ing Mother Nature’s fits of rage. She has used almost everything she has to remove us from her sight.
During hurricane season we normally experience strong winds, tons of rain, storm surges, flying objects, and drunken neighbors. Maybe those last two are one and the same.
Any one of those elements would be bad on its own, but add them together and stir in the p!$$+d off woman factor and it’s going to be a rough ride this year.
Experts are predicting there will be at least 10 named storms in the 2011 Atlantic hurricane season, all with the possibility of landfall somewhere along the coast.
If the devastation of the past few months is an indicator of just how angry Mother Nature is, I’d like to buy her Hershey Pennsylvania and tell her to pig out. She needs chocolate and a few million Xanax and she needs them now.
Personally I feel I am in the Charles Dickens version of The Hurricane Story. I have been visited by the ghost of hurricanes past.
I have lived through the ghost of hurricanes present. I am in fear of the ghost of hurricanes yet to come. The big problem here is that I’m not sleeping and this is not a dream from which I can awake.
I guess I have two choices. I can move from the South or I can weather one more hurricane season.
Pass the margaritas. 183 days and counting.
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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