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An Idiot’s Guide To Scary Hurricanes.

A Manhattan cat, post-hurricane.

 

I love Halloween. I love everything about it; the costumes, the decorations, the pageantry. And I extra love the month-long preparatory work I get to do in the field of ‘watching spooky movies and creeping myself out.’

What I just learned, however, is that those movies and books do not create a healthy context, when, let’s say, a freakishly oversized Franken-hurri-nado-palypse is barreling toward the city in which you reside.

My advice: don’t tuck in to your oh-so-tempting box set of The Walking Dead for the first time while also listening to reports imploring you to buy water and protein bars for the impending catastrophe. It’s along the lines of how you probably shouldn’t watch The Cabin in The Woods while actually in a very dark and remote cabin in the woods. And when a natural disaster is nigh, never, ever read The Road. Don’t even have a copy of The Road in your home. Erase the word ‘road’ from your vocabulary.

So far, this has been my disaster plan, and this is a new low, considering the appalling uselessness of my previous disaster plans (which were mostly along the lines of “hide in a cupboard with a jar of peanut butter”):

  1. Aluminum baseball bats and a 12 gauge shotgun to fend off zombies/looters/zombie-looters.
  2. Vitamin C tablets to prevent scurvy.
  3. What’s our yogurt situation? Do we have enough to last until the summer?
  4. Kale.
  5. Backup batteries for the remote controls.

And water. Always water. Enough water, in fact, to set up shop as a makeshift laundry service for the entire building. Even though, as my husband helpfully pointed out—”if you need more water, you can always stick your head out the window and open your mouth.”

The type of damage that they are predicting could be devastating, and so for the better part of four days, my husband has been dealing with me at various stages of ‘heart palpitations’ and ‘eyes bugging out of my head.’ But all this pressure to get it right has been stultifying. I went food shopping this morning with a bundle buggy, looking like the Crypt Keeper, and when I got home, these are the words I gravely spoke to my husband who loves me: “I think we have enough dessert to get us through.” Stupid.

I can go from ‘reasonable professional woman with half a brain’, to ‘there’s a storm coming, do we have enough unguents (?)’  in half a midnight viewing of The Shining.

So if the power goes out, maybe it will be a blessing in disguise for me. And if it does, look for me in the bathroom. Because sixty seconds after we finally power down, I’m mostly likely to be the one lapping water out of the toilet and crunching uncooked steel cut oats like a frightened street rat.

Be safe everyone.

 

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Check out other posts by  Sam and Allana:

In which Sam weans her baby and gets sad

In which Sam’s children refuse to dress themselves and she misses out on things

In which Allana tackles pacifiers!

In which Sam reveals that she turned out okay even though she cries at parties

Where Allana states that Potty Training is a lie and people yell at her.

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