I packed three hundred twenty pounds of peaches today, and then I loaded my car with an overnight bag, Hermione, and my collection of Mary Stewart books and drove up to Bangor. The hurricane is supposed to churn its way past us overnight. By the time it reaches Maine, it is only supposed to be a category one storm, but since I’m right on the coast and in the middle of the woods, my parents got me a hotel room for the night—they couldn’t live with the guilt if a tree were to crash through my roof and join me in bed during the night.
I have to say, I’ve never been so thankful for a hurricane. I’m relishing this respite. I ran on the treadmill, took a sinfully long shower, marveled over the toilet (A toilet! Can you imagine? Not a bucket, a real toilet), strolled through the mall reveling in the Friday evening press of people, went to a Borders to assuage my bibliomania, video chatted with my family and best friend via Skype, washed and dried two loads of laundry, and read the book I purchased at the bookstore.
The lights are bright, my bed king-sized and firm, the Internet free, the air conditioner set to its coldest setting, the TV turned off but present if I wanted to indulge in the Discovery channel, the signal on my cell phone full, the toilet just around the corner, and I am in the midst of hundreds of sleeping travelers. Thank you, Earl, Mum, and Dad. I’m in heaven.
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