We were all prepared. Every pitcher we own was filled with drinking water, the bathtub filled in case we needed buckets to flush, there was milk in the fridge, bread in the freezer, we turned the fridge and freezer to coldest to keep things longer in case of power loss, and we each had a flashlight beside us.
The only thing we didn't have was the evil Mr. T, who hid for his little turtley life in spite of Betsy wading through the pond for ages in the rain and then sitting and hoping she could catch him to bring him to safety in the house. He didn't care about the storm, just his freedom.
Despite all our preparations, or perhaps because of, Hurricane Irene was a bit of a bust. Now I'm sure the families of those who died wouldn't agree. Or those who lost homes to wind or flooding. Like those in Dave's mother's home of Margaretville, NY. But here in South Jersey, it was the disaster that wasn't.
I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm very happy our prayers were *mostly* answered and there were very few fatalities. As for the property damage, well, things can be replaced. People can't.
So in spite of experiencing a couple of flickers in the electrical service and briefly losing our cable and internet, we had it pretty easy. Next time a hurricane comes up the East Coast, we might not even bother preparing, and that might be a shame.
All I can say in closing is: Good night Irene, Good night Irene, I'll see you in my dreams.
