It's the Most Shittiful Time of the Year...

Nine months out of the year-- there is no place I'd rather live than south Florida. But the remaining three months or so-- I do a complete one muh'fuckin eighty. Why? Hurricane season! And I'm not talking about the local college football team.

From August to October-- south Floridians are keeping close tabs on the weather. We're looking for those developing storms off the coast of Africa or the eastern Carribean. We're looking at projected paths and storm intensity-- and if that sumbitch is forecasted to come anywhere near south Florida, everybody scurries to the gas station and the local supermarkets. We're talking about gas lines that go on forever. If you can get to the pump in under 20 minutes, consider yourself lucky. If you can get through the checkout counter at the supermarket in under 20 minutes, consider yourself lucky. In any event, it's a damn free-for-all...

The first storm to hit south Florida this year was Ernesto. It was projected to be a category 1 storm, but fortunately was only a tropical storm. Turned out to be one big fakeout. Just got a bunch of rain dumped on us and that was it. But after last year, I ain't taking any chances. Hurricane Wilma was supposed to only be a cat 1 storm. Instead, it was a cat 3 and it blew my damn upstairs window out in my memorabilia room. So for three hours or so, I had 100+ mph gusts blowing inside that room. I literally had to take pictures-- some of which very valuable, off my wall while category 3 wind gusts blew inside the room. There was still jagged pieces of glass left in the window from where it blew out-- so I could have very easily been hit by one of those pieces. But I didn't care. I had far too many valuables in that room-- and I had to remove them as fast and as safely as I could.

It was a scary experience to say the least. Never would I have dreamed that a hurricane could blow out my window like that. Call it ignorance-- but I'm about 4 miles west of the ocean in a thickly settled neighborhood. Thought I had sufficient wind-breakers in the adjoining and nearby houses-- but I was sadly mistaken. When it was all said and done-- it cost me about $2,500 to repair everything wrong with the house. We're talking broken window, paint job, pressure cleaning, my screened-in porch which was torn to shreds at the roof, the awning that hangs over my guestroom window above the garage. It was crazy...borderline surreal.

In short, what I'm getting at is, you just can't take chances during hurricane season. You gotta be prepared. My thinking is, I'd rather be prepared and be wrong than not be prepared and be wrong. And what's the worst that can happen? You have some extra soup and baked beans in the cupboard. BFD.

Hopefully this year's hurricane season is a lot more docile than last year's. I'm in the process of getting impact (hurricane) windows installed for every room in the hizzy. I thought about putting up hurricane shutters-- but the sunlight from outside means too much to me-- and well, I'd rather not live in a cave. I'll take impact windows, thank you very much.

In the meantime, you northern folks enjoy it. Come winter time when you're freezing your balls or tits off in a below zero wind chill-- you wish you were down in the Sunshine State. But I ain't gonna lie-- I wish I was in New England right now. It's a great place to be in the summer time. Someday I'd like to live up there seasonally-- spend maybe 3-4 months there and the rest of the time in Florida. Someday...