I think the worst part of all of this is the waiting, and the watching.
It’s like that Rwanda book, We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families. It’s not “I’m killing you now with a machete”, it’s “tomorrow I will kill you and your family with a machete”. So you wait. And you scheme. And you bargain. And you make plans to escape, and you make plans to stay and face your fate, and you make plans to just accept what comes.
But you wait. There is so much that needs to be done, and yet so much of it can’t be done yet. So you sit and you think about all that needs to be done that you can’t do yet.
And you watch. And you wait. And you ponder what it will feel like when it comes.
It’s the waiting
Posted in gustav, new orleans
If it does get bad and y’all need a place to go, don’t forget we’re over here in Pensacola and have a spare room. Of course, if this fucker jogs a bit to the right, we might be headed your way…
Pat
North, man. With a cone like that, if it’s more than a Cat 4 I’m going to Jackson.
I’m hoping like hell it misses you completely, Ray. I know… not a chance, but I can hope anyway.
Oh, very much of a chance, actually. It could go literally anywhere. But that’s the thing…I could drive over to Pat’s posh pad in Pensacola and wake up the next morning and it’s pushing storm surge through his living room instead of mine.
Well, I’m crossing my fingers for y’all…
It’s kinda like it painted a target on your forehead, huh? Well, for some collective ‘you’.
Though the latest charts as of *now* show landfall aimed more at New Iberia. And let me apologize to them now for wishing it more their way than yours.
I’ve picked up quite a bit of weather geekery by obsessively watching the forecasts.
But it’s hard to disengage and be objective. I hope everything and everyone will be okay.
Jeez, you definitely summed it up in a nutshell. The waiting is torture. Especially as the anniversary approaches.
Yes, the anticipation is a killer.
(frantically waves gustav off)
Damn. It’s not working.