I’m stubborn. Really, really stubborn.  Apparently there is a huge hurricane a’comin, and I am convinced it is going to spin due-east in approximately seven minutes.  Maybe go this way:

Go south, or straight for Europe, and die down en route. Dissapear.

But I think I’m wrong.  My whole office is buzzing.  The subway and LIRR are shutting down. And I keep getting emails: NY Times alerts, AAA alerts, Friends. AAA is my favorite email thus far, providing sound advice like  “be aware of fallen trees, limbs, and downed power lines.” (I hope they mean tree limbs?) They also told me to check my airline status if I’m planning on flying (what intelligent advice, how much do you pay your employees?), and if I must evacuate, bring three days worth of food… for my dog.

And with all this discussion of Irene, I keep thinking about that song “Come on Eileen,” just because Eileen sort of sounds like Irene.  And then I start singing “there’s a storm front comin, moood indigo!” because I think of storms.  And then I wonder if any Hurricanes have been named Laura, and if hurricanes can actually have genders, and if I’m being an idiot for not really caring.

But, I do.  This is all just blog-talk. I am leaving the city Saturday morning, at Sometime AM sharp.  I will drive fast cautiously.  I won’t book any flights, and I will pick up three days worth of cat food.  I’ll be safe in Northport, where I’m a far one-mile away from the water and only have six or seven trees right outside my window.  I’ll avoid going running in the rain, even though it’s one my favorite things to do.

Be Smart, Be Safe, You Me & Irene.