hurricane season

Hell, Martha.

One week ago tonight, right?, I was sitting here waiting for the storm to hit and generally hoping I wouldn't lose power. Ha ha to that, motherfucker.

So yes, the storm hit, and yes, I am calling it Hermione like everyone else. And Johnny Karate and I lost power in the wee hours and had a very sweaty night.

The next day I got up and ran what errands I could. It was like some kind of dangerous holiday. I had to back up and get around downed wires and trees and yard furniture and all other manner of flotsam and jetsam. The Waffle Houses were open, mostly, but mostly just taking cash. No one I know had power. I wound up at the downtown restaurant where my buddy Bishop works. We drank cold sodas, talked about Harry Potter, and watched people walk by with a jaunty, end of the world attitude. I went home and read Harry Potter by flashlight and spent another sweaty night.

It went on like that for a couple days. All you talked about if you ran into someone was power and how much you missed it and maybe who else had it. Mama got it back quick, so some of my sisters and their kids posted up out there. I was glad, I don't like to think of all the kids fussy and hot and annoyed.

I played card games at El Patron, my local Mexican joint. I rode around town with Lindsey, sliding through pockets of deep darkness in the heart of the city. "Like Silent Hill," she said. I read another Harry Potter book. I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and was grateful that the water worked.

Monday morning around 3:30, I'd given up hope for the night and started to head to bed when everything clicked back into technicolor and I head the woosh of the AC. Praise be, y'all. Window unit, Hallelujah. I got lucky. Some folks still don't have it back. Plenty of people wound up with trees in their houses or on their cars. We live in a jungle, and the jungle don't give a fuck.

So, how've y'all been?