So I've spent the last 28 hours trying to pretend there's no hurricane coming at me - it's just a tropical storm, it could hit Florida, etc., etc. Unfortunately, I suspect it's this kind of denial that stranded so many people here in New Orleans three years and one day ago, so Dustyn and I have decided that we're definitely leaving for Houston late tonight.
It's also finally reached the wind speed to be considered an official hurricane, somewhere in the ocean southwest of Cuba.
It's funny how two days ago when the small threat of hurricane had me all excited about taking a road trip to Texan and perhaps having our exam delayed. This morning, however, on my drive to Home Depot to get a 4-D cell LED flashlight (that doubles as a self-defense weapon), the mood was obviously somber with numerous people stocking up on batteries and other hurricane-weathering accessories, debating with each other whether or not the should really leave the city. And now, that I have thus far packed up half my life and I still have a quite a bit to pack into my car, I'm kind of sad to be leaving. What if I don't get to come back?
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