Yes, it's that time of the year again. Earlier than last year for the obvious reasons. At least this year I'm prepared. For one, when my mother makes that frantic call begging me to get out of Dodge 'cause a horror-cane is coming right for us, I'll be ready to pack a bag and go. I've threatened to hog tie my boyfriend if he doesn't follow suit. Last year when she called, I told her I was staying home.
"It's not going to hit us, mom!" I said in an exasperated tone. "Stop worrying."
Every year, me and my mother have the same argument. You see, my aunt works in emergency management so when she gets the skinny on an evacuation, she calls the entire family and tells them to leave. Every time she does this, I end up spending a hellish car trip evacuating to either Florida or Texas. This is followed by a couple of days of sheer boredom because my relatives live in the sticks. The hurricane doesn't even come close to hitting our area, and then I get to endure the enjoyment of another long return trip home.
Last year, my mother called me four times. She begged, she pleaded, and finally, when that didn't work, she cried. She asked me to give her my boyfriend's address so that she'd know where to look for the bodies after she returned from the evacuation. Then she hung up on me. I packed a bag and told my boyfriend I was leaving. He said he'd see me when I got back. The schmuck ended up leaving later that day when he realized his car might get flooded. We spent most of the evacuation in two different states. I love my man, but sometimes I don't know whether I want to beat the shit out of him or fuck his brains out.
I was never in the girl scouts, but I now know the value of being prepared for anything. I've got a good length of rope and a ball gag in the trunk of my car just in case.