Okay, so it may not be the end of the world....yet.
But within the past week we've had both an earthquake and a hurricane, which is a pretty big deal, considering that New Jersians pretty much shit a brick and take cover in their basements every time there's a severe thunderstorm warning.
We are not a brave people.
So at this point I'm pretty much just sitting here with a beekeeper's hat, a giant fly swatter, and a can of Raid, waiting for the plague of locust that will inevitably follow. Because with this many natural disasters? I can only assume that God finally got around to watching an episode of The Jersey shore, and he is clearly not impressed, people.
Which is a shame, because I was planning on raising my boys as athiests, which might be hard when God's all salty about our worshipping of the bronze idol otherwise known as Snookie and is bringing a rain of fire and brimstone to the Garden State.
Just remember, God...they're not ACTUALLY from Jersey {points awkwardly to New York City}. You know what you have to do.
Nobody wanted Irene's damp ass, but she came anyway. She brought the creek to our doorstep (literally) and took out an oak tree in our backyard that was probably at least as old as Regis Philbin.
Or Jesus.
Whatever.
But along came Hurricane Irene, and the tree was all, "I quit this bitch" and went ass-up (or roots-up) the minute the winds started to howl. That it decided to go ass-up on my neighbor's truck is unfortunate. But hey, better his truck than my nursery-to-be, right?
And now, much like The Giving Tree, we will continue to desecrate it's memory by cutting it up into pieces and using it to heat our house so we can run around in our skivvies when it's 10 degrees outside.
Circle of life, blah, blah, blah
The creek, fortuitously, did not sweep our house away. Despite predictions of mass flooding and a scrambled exodus of all things feline from our house at 2:00 am (yeah, that was a good time), we were spared the entry of Haynes Creek to our humble abode, other than an inch or two of water in the basement, which happens a couple of times a year anyway and is no biggie. So now we can rest easy, knowing that the 100-year flood does not, in fact, directly affect our house (although it swallows up the majority of our yard and sometimes causes a giant-ass oak tree to crash on top of our neighbor's F150).
So all's well that ends well. When all is said and done, we didn't even lose power for that long compared to most, and my frantic attempts to finish all work before the storm (should I lose power and internet for an extended period of time. Again.) translate into an easy work week with plenty of time to paint the nursery, cook delicious dinners, and elevate my feet until they resemble something vaguely human again.
Sure, it's nothing as exciting as a hurricane (or watching God destroy the cast of The Jersey Shore), but after this week's fiascos, I think I'm ready for a little peace and quiet.
Here's hoping September is decidedly less eventful than this past month (yes, I'm talking to you, boys. No surprise deliveries, okay???)
No comments:
Post a Comment