The calm before the storm

It's been a stressful week so far here in Sweat Sock City. You can see the tension etched across people's faces, hear it in their voices. The lines at the gas station are long. Premium is sometimes the only option available; some pumps are completely dry. The grocery stores are empty -- I didn't even bother; I stocked up with snacks and drinks at the local Walgreens.

I've finished taking pictures of my apartment from every angle for insurance purposes. I've put masking tape -- provided by the apartment complex -- across all three of my double-paned picture windows; I'm not delusional enough to think my windows will survive a Category 5 Hurricane, but gestures are sometimes necessary. I've filled a couple pitchers of water, though I have no intention of being here for landfall. In the morning, I'll fill the bathtub. Just in case. All appliances will be unplugged. I'll back up my computer hard drive. All papers have been gathered, put into a folder, and packed. Plants and CDs have been moved away from the windows. The rest of the stuff, I'm leaving to chance because I'm simply not strong enough to move any of it.

Even though I know I will not be here for landfill, I'm scared. Seriously, totally scared. I hate uncertainty, I hate not knowing how long I'll be away, what I'll come back to. It'll take a few hours to just get out of the city tomorrow. I'm stocking up wtih music, snacks and drinks and will try to remain calm as I inch out. I'm hoping to be gone before mandatory evacuation takes place; that's when you have no choice as to what your final destination will be and you must keep driving on the freeway until the Powers that Be let you off.

I regret not being able to blog the storm for you when it comes on land, but people, if anything, you should know by now I'm a big, big wimp. It's not so much the storm I fear as what comes afterwards.

This is all. I will update when I've moved further inland.