Because Mother Nature didn’t make her point clear enough with the earthquake

The last time my city was threatened with a hurricane was Baltimore in 2003. I had just started my freshman year, and Isabel decided to parade right on through, completely uninvited.

We were warned for days in advance and classes were preemptively canceled so that we could all be safe and sound.

And by “safe and sound,” I’m sure the university also meant, “throwing hurricane-themed parties.”

Personally, I ended up playing beirut for about three days straight and sitting on the Ex’s rooftop watching the so-called storm hit.

Bottom line: aside from some light rain and very minor winds, Isabel wasn’t all that intimidating, and made Hopkins look foolish for canceling classes over almost nothing.

I have a feeling that Irene is going to take a slightly different approach.

She’s already got DC canceling events left and right, and more than a few weekend plans have been changed (my own included).

She’s got Pepco warning residents about power outages and when we get to the Teeter tonight, I’m sure that they’ll be low on bottled water, flashlights, and batteries. Also Irene’s doing.

Sounds like someone’s on a power trip.

But, just in case she decides to make good on her destructive promises, I’ll be hunkered down in my hopefully fairly safe apartment and eating everything that could possible go bad if we lose power.

And wondering if the Chinese place nearby delivers in hurricanes. For a really good tip? It’s worth a shot.

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I didn’t mean to be gone for *that* long

So, as I’m sure you’re aware of by now, I’ve been a bad little blogger. I suppose you could say that I took snow days to mean no work and no blogging. But we’ll remedy that this week.

To get back into the swing of things, as much as I hate starting off the week with complaints, that’s what I have. Rather, it’s not so much of a complaint as it is a holy-shit-did-that-really-just-happen? kind of thing. This past Friday night I was fast asleep in my cozy bed, dreaming of…well, that’s not important. What is important is the waterfall-esque noise that woke me with a start at 3:00 in the morning.

To be honest, it took me several minutes to register where the noise was coming from. And then several more minutes to rouse myself enough to investigate. And what I found looked like this:

There is some sort of silt/sand/gross stuff leaking from my water heater. Awesome.

That’s right. A busted water heater in my closet.

It took me about another ten minutes to move all the crap that I store in that closet into the tub, to keep it from getting any wetter – or destroyed.

And then another ten minutes to find somebody who works in the building to help me. When I found him, he informed me that not only was the water heater flooding my apartment, but that it had spread the wealth by dripping into every apartment below mine, down to the first floor.

I live on the seventh.

Finally, the maintenance guy got up to my room to assess the situation and determined 1) that he’d need the wet vac, since the water had soaked the carpet, pooled in the closet, and was quickly spreading throughout the studio.

It might look like shadows, but it's not. Unfortunately.

And 2) that he’d be replacing that water heater the same night.

I determined that I wouldn’t be getting much more, if any, sleep that night.

Before he started with the wet vac or replacement

By the time he was done, it was about 5:30 in the morning. He left me with a new water heater (plus), but not before telling me that the carpet was soaked through so badly that it would have to be entirely replaced…but that it couldn’t be done until sometime the following week (huge HUGE minus). So, not only is my tub still full and my carpet still soaked, but, frankly, the apartment is starting to smell from all the dampness. Not good.

Thankfully, I’ve been able to stay with a friend my boyfriend while I await news of when this will all be taken care of. And, as much as I want it all fixed, I don’t relish the idea of having to box up all my things and move out my furniture while new carpet is laid down.

I know I just recently wrote about how I always try to look on the bright side, but I’m having a hard time here. Does anyone else see a silver lining?

Please. Enlighten me.

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The rain just adds a little challenge

On most days, I kind of like the rain. Especially a warm summer rain or a thunderstorm. I love curling up and watching the lightning flash across the sky, and listening to the boom booms. (What? Sometimes I’m still five.)

However, walking to work in the rain, even just a light rain, presents its very own set of obstacles.

1) The Beautiful-On-A-Nice-Day-But-Treacherous-When-Wet Brick Sidewalks

Now, I know that this isn’t an obstacle for everyone, but I have a few things working against me here. First, I like to walk fast. In fact, it generally pains me to walk slowly – unless I’m stumbling. Second, I like to wear flip flops to work, as they are far more comfortable for a 25-minute walk than heels are. The traction, however, is sub-par. Third, the first few blocks of my commute are downhill and brick. And brick sidewalks get surprisingly slippery when wet. I haven’t wiped out yet (knock on wood), but I’m pretty sure that’s only because I shuffle along – adding what feels like forever to the commute.

2) The Look-At-Those-Suckers-Walking Watch-This Driver

Those puddles that pool by the side of the road? They’re like a magnet for drivers who are either bored on the drive into work, or annoyed at being stuck in traffic – or both. And when an innocent pedestrian is walking by, I understand the urge to see if that whole super splash effect really works. I just wish that I’d never been the recipient.

Corners are especially dangerous, since you can get hit from multiple angles.

3) The I’m-In-My-Own-World-And-Nobody-Else-Matters Umbrella User

Just imagine when other people are around...that thing's a beast! (The umbrella, duh.)

This is possibly the most dangerous obstacle of all on the walk to work – or really, when you walk anywhere in the rain. I know you know exactly who I’m talking about. It’s the twit with the big ass umbrella. The one who conveniently forgets there are other people on the sidewalk and never shifts her umbrella up or to the side, to accommodate passersby. The one who scratches the side of your face or catches your hair with that one bare spoke. And then she glares at you because how dare you got in her way. Do I sound bitter? I’m not. Not really.

But I may have had to uncover one of my spokes just as pure defense.

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