Hurricane Irene came through this weekend...four days after experiencing my first earthquake. If the events of this year are at all telling, I might be inclined to state that you all can blame me for the once-in-a-lifetime natural disasters occuring in the DC area of late. Because then this story happened.
While trying to decide whether it was an actual cause for concern or just more bloated media inflating a story to sensationalize the weather for increases viewership, I decided to prep for the hurricane's worst possible scenario outcome with: buying: bag of onions, 4 apples, and tomato paste, making sure my flashlights worked and were somewhere easy to find, filling up 3 buckets (for flushing) and 2 gallons (for cooking) with water, and parking my car in an underground garage so that flying debris wouldn't break a window (like it did with my friend's car during a blizzard last year). So the storm starts. First, just rain. So, I go on a run, as I have begun training for the Army Ten Miler. (BEST. RUN. EVER. I smiled the whole time. Every run should be in the rain) Later, when the sun goes down and the winds come out, I go out.
Can we discuss how much I love my water proof jacket and five fingers? Perfect hurricane apparel.
Upon exiting the metro to my first destination, I come to find a blackberry sitting in the newly formed curb river on the road. I pick it up and try to text someone to let them know I found it and will return it if I can successfully dry it out - but the button to unlock it doesn't work anymore so I take the battery out, put it in my pocket and call the person whose house I'm headed to to ask if he has a bag of rice. I arrive and put the phone in rice. Head out and about for the night - witness a 30 something year old man who evidently invited himself to the girl's birthday party (classy), later throw up in cups that were laying around (also classy). The following day the phone worked and returned to it's owner. This is a weird version of fucked up karma, considering 8 days prior I had my phone stolen...I'm just sayin.
So I go home and - despite attempting to keep my food bills low in an effort to save money - decide to take a drive to the grocery store to pick up some ice cream. (My only really TRUE vice in life.) On my 8 block drive home (I drove so it didn't melt; don't judge me! ha) , I turn down a road a two blocks from my house when suddenly I hear a startling noise to my right. BAM! I look over and see this:
So, that's my car's passenger side window. You know, the car I had just taken out of the garage about an hour prior so the hurricane didn't damage it? That one. And it's about $200 to fix: MOST. EXPENSIVE. ICE. CREAM. EVER. And I have NO idea how this happened: I didn't hit anything, the people behind me said they didn't see anything; I was in a super residential area in front of a house and when I got out to see if a rock had been thrown or something, all I could find was a penny...heads up. Irony?
This has begun to get to the point of severely bizarre now - windows instantaneously, inexplicably shattering. I'm left only now with the thought and singular explanation that the universe is trying to tell me something - and it's not that i'm not listening now, I'm all effing ears - but I don't know what it's trying to say. But it's starting to creep me out a little...