Letter to Hurricane Irene

Dear Irene,

I am making preparations for your upcoming visit.

I will take down all my hanging planters and stash them in the corner by the back steps.

I will pull up my shepherd’s hooks and put them in the shed.  The lawn chairs will be in the shed, too.

I will move my big resin rabbit planter and my finch feeder into the shed.

I will secure my trash cans.

I will make sure the punchbuggy has a full tank of gas.

I have an ample supply of people food and cat food and cat litter.

I have flashlights and a transistor radio and extra batteries.

I have candles (jar candles — safer).

I have plenty of unread books and a deck of cards.

I always have plenty of practice drills for school and am willing to practice with my steno writer in manual mode and without being connected to my laptop.

My cell phone will be fully charged.

I have five gallons of water and will fill up the sinks if I think I need more.  (Sorry, no bathtub.)

Now I have a few favors to ask of you.  Well, more than a few.

Please drift out to sea.

If not, please drastically weaken as you make landfall.

If not, please be kind.  (See below.)

Please be kind to my house.

Please be kind to my roof, especially the half that has not yet been replaced, the half that leaked a little in the utility room (and almost in my new bathroom!) during last year’s floods.

Please be kind to my windows, particularly the picture window and the two large bow windows, as they will not be boarded up.

Please be kind to my mighty oak trees (especially the crooked one) and my lovely, sturdy red maple.

Please be kind to my big lilac.  I love the lilacs, you know.

Please be kind to my stockade fences, both the good and not-so-good sections, and to the wooden plank fence that runs along the street.

Please be kind to my front porch.

Please be kind to the smaller things, too, such as my mailbox post and my iron sunflower birdbath.  I promise to lay the birdbath on its side.

Please be kind to my shed.  The crooked oak is right behind it, and I am concerned about what could happen should you uproot it.

Please be kind to my car which has no garage in which to seek shelter.

Please do not produce any tornadoes.  Enough is enough already.  Also, I do not have a basement to escape to if there is a tornado.

Please do not leave me without electricity for a week.  I remember Gloria doing that to my current municipality in ’85.  I was still in Massachusetts then, where we had our electricity restored in three days.  (And I remember sitting in the kitchen with Mom listening to “Dallas” on the radio that Friday night.)

Of course, please be kind to all the animals, those that are being cared for by people as well as those who are on their own.

Please extend these courtesies to everyone, not just to me.

Thank you for considering my request.

KarmaCat

=^..^=

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