Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Not dead but tryin

So. About two weeks ago, I got stung by a wasp on my foot. I'm allergic. This was PAIN in new ways. I thought I'd been stung by a scorpion at first. Bees don't hurt like this. Fire ants don't hurt like this. The European Paper Wasp is a cast iron BITCH of firey death and destruction. It felt like someone had put a cigarette out on my foot. Luckily, it was a single sting on top of my foot, and I got ice on it and benedryl in me fast, but I was miserable for days.

In the middle of that recovery, with my system already weakened, I went on a rabid cleaning spree of my bedroom, the full dusting/vaccuming/bagging/sorting/washing chaos associated spring cleaning or massive nesting. Without a dust mask. Having four cats.

Cough.

Cue massive sinus infection. I'm still recovering, it's been about a week. Although, it seems as though nature used it to help me make up for the last six months without decent sleep. I've spent the last week in a near-coma, doing little more than sleeping. And of course, the ragweed count has been topping the charts for the last few days, which isn't helping.

Rita is coming.

My parents, who have stayed through every single hurricane since they moved into that house 40 years ago, have bugged out. They got my grandparents out, up to Wylie at my aunt's, which makes perfect sense. They aren't in good shape, and MUST have electricity, and besides, just wussy Allison flooded their place.

But even my baby sister, who hiked across Europe alone, has bugged out. As I said before, Houston is a swamp, and has every intention of returning to that state with even non-hurricane heavy rainfall.

Mercifully, they aren't coming here, or -I- would have bugged out. So we do have some emergency crash space, but no room for pets brought in, considering Zamboni doesn't take strange animals well and tries to eat them, and I don't think our short little gate would keep a dog in the yard. Besides, it's just too damn hot to leave a dog outside right now. We've been breaking heat records this week.

Current projection is that even this far inland, Rita will still be a Cat 1 when she hits us. Not much of a big deal, we desperately need rain, and the only way our position would flood would be if pretty much all of DFW was under about 10 feet of water. The real threat is the potential of tornadoes spawned by the storm.

Freeways are parking lots. There are No Hotel Rooms in TX, period, evacuees are having to head out of state to find places to sit out the storm. I-45 is totally northbound now, the southbound lanes opened up to northbound traffic to speed the evacuation.

Ugh.

3 comments:

Mike said...

I'm glad to see you back. I hope you are feeling better.

We were wondering if you were going to be directly affected by Rita. I hope everything works out alright.

My son got stung by a wasp a few days ago as well at school. He had his own cure for it that seemed to work for him. Karen described it on her blog.

Karen said...

Equally glad you're back. My house needs cleaning too, but I am afraid to tackle it. I've always thought you were very brave. I hope the tornadoes (if they come) avoid you.

Karen said...

10/12: Hey Pooka, how are you doing? We haven't heard from you in a while.