Take a look at this picture (I borrowed it from the NOAA). You see that little red thing labeled "Sandy?"
That bitch ruined my
Remember how I said I was going to take Gabby to the beach, because when she got run over by the train and lived to tell about it, I realized that was my one regret for her life? Yeah, that hasn't happened.
The first week I had to cancel because of financial reasons. Long story short and without using as many expletives as I normally use when telling it, one client paid me way later than promised and another canceled on me at the very last second. I was frustrated, but I was fine with that.
The second week my cousin died, and I canceled out of respect for my family and because I wasn't sure if we would be going to visit with his mom and brother or having a memorial service. I was fine with that, too, because family comes first always.
So, this coming weekend I just knew it was going to happen. I even talked my mom into staying longer than we originally planned. I was so excited. I've been working my butt off on crap work and saving every little penny. I have the hotel all booked and the car already filled up with gas. This evening I'm getting ready to take the dogs out when I hear the local weatherman say, "Coming up: how tropical storm Sandy could affect the Georgia - Florida game."
My first thought was isn't hurricane season over? My second thought was will they cancel the game in Jacksonville? My third thought was will we get rain here in Atlanta? My fourth thought was I won't be in Atlanta on that day; I'll be in Charleston, which is pretty darn close to the aforementioned Georgia - Florida game in Jacksonville.
Unable to wait for the forecast, I took to Facebook where I am "friends" with the aforementioned weatherman and told him I would be in Charleston on Saturday and Sunday. I asked if ol' Sandy would ruin my plans. While it's not certain yet, Mr. B suggested that at the very least the greatest city in the world would experience strong winds and a violent surf.
I am an excellent swimmer, but I don't know that I need to take my handicapped dog to swim in violent surf. So, unless Sandy dies quickly, it looks like I am going to have to put this whole thing off yet another week.
My mom thinks I should take off to the mountains this week, alone (with Gabby), to finish the last bit of my book. After all, that's why I moved in here three and a half months ago. I'm just not sure I can afford both.
And it will be my luck that the mountains will explode or something.
All the mountains.
In the whole country.