Any of us who hunkered down through Hurricane Andrew in 1992 have SOME form of PTSD -- I know I do. Helene was nasty, but strange -- did lots of damage up in the Carolinas, and was less powerful. I wish I was a better person about that, but my FaceBook (tm) is littered with folks asking for help who had damaged VACATION homes. I realize plenty of people are suffering, but I figure if you can afford a second expensive house in the mountains -- you can fix your own damned state.
Anyway...there's a CAT 5 brewing in the Gulf -- the comically named Milton. And the way that one seems on a straight line to Tampa, like Andrew was on a straight line to Miami, is, to use a word I despise, triggering me. I wish everyone in the path well.
Meanwhile, ahead of any outer bands we may see from Milton, there's another tropical system just off the Miami coast causing a LOT or rainfall. The thinking is that will saturate the ground, on top of heavy rains we already had all weekend, and cause flooding.
Also, we're at the edge of a Tropical Storm Watch, and so Miami and Broward and Palm Beach schools closed Wednesday. It just puts more tensosity in the air.
I figured one of our family was fleeing the nervousness: Wifey. I dropped her off at MIA at 145 for a 4 pm flight to visit a close friend. Alas -- that flight was not to be -- first a relief captain had to be called, and then there was a mechanical issue.
The weather is rainy, but nothing else, and as I write, Wifey is off the plane awaiting a replacement one. She checked her roller, on account of I am always the one to stow it above the seat for her, and she didn't want to have to ask a stranger to do it.
I'm guessing she DOES leave -- probably in a few hours -- and her bag will have to be delivered to her friend's house tomorrow or the next day.
Again -- tensosity.
Compounding things more, a friend is upstate today for her daughter's divorce hearing. She is leaving a Qanon creep, and my friend had some worries about his possible violence. The hearing was set for 130, for 1.5 hours. When I didn't hear by 430, I started calling and texting. Nothing. I called her best friend. Message.
My paranoid brain started seeing scenes of domestic court carnage. Finally, the daughter texted -- my friend's phone was broken -- they would call me later on with a re-cap.
I chalk all this up to the charged ions ahead of Cat 5 Milton. I wish I drank alone -- tonight would be a good one for some Stolis. I'll wait for a few days -- hopefully dinner with one or both Ds Wednesday night, assuming Milton doesn't jog South and become more than a nuisance.
The latest reports show the opposite -- the Cone of Death, as we storm vets call it, has shifted Northward -- better for us -- catastrophic for Tampa proper.
Those poor souls.
On the way to the airport, Wifey and I were reminiscing about our Andrew days. D2 was just starting to walk, D1 was in preschool at Beth David thanks to a mercy exception by the registrar.
We learned we really didn't care about any possessions -- we bought new crap over the years, and it's so much crap.
But the thought of rebuilding a house at our age? No thank you -- if we got "mistroyed" again, as D1 adorably malapropped, we would sell and rent a condo or house somewhere.
Hopefully that doesn't happen -- one Cat 5 was more than enough. We have that strong protocol -- it we're ever in the Cone of Death for a Cat 3 or above -- we're out of Dodge -- a caravan of SUVs with Millennials and babies and dogs.
Meanwhile, for those being stalked by the monster -- may the Big Man lesson its impact.
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