I did do one useful thing - I went grocery shopping Sunday night. Feeling all efficent, I even got cuted up a little - black tank, black mini, black floopy sandles, and cool purple sunglasses. List in hand, I rushed around the store, trying to make it back in time for The Simpsons.

I was doing really well until the Stupid Steak Guy made me late. I waited for a long time, while impatiently and repeatedly informing Nice Seafood Guy that The Simpsons start in ten minutes! Stupid Steak Guy finally emerged from wherever those heros of Red Meat retreat to to inform me that they didn't have the cut I was looking for until next week. Hmph. Off to the checkout.

As I wheeled my cart out the door, I noticed that it seemed to be sprinkling a bit. The wind and rain increased exponentially the closer I got to my car and the farther I walked from the shelter of the store. By the time I was unlocking the Neon, it was pouring, and the wind was plastering my sopping shirt to my back. On the way across the parking lot, I lost, then recovered a bag, but I broke the light bulbs inside. Once I'd gotten the car open, I noticed the rain was being whipped directly inside, spraying the basket of clean laundry perched on the back seat.

At this point, I looked skyward, sighed, muttered, "Fuck it," and started frantically tossing plastic bags of cucumbers and veggie burgers and shampoo and all the other crap on my list into the car. Front seat, back seat - who cares? Just get me the hell out of here.

Once I got behind the driver's seat, I noticed the inside of the car was almost as wet as the parking lot. Great. I'm usually a vigilante about returning the cart to one of those cart-holding spaces, but this one time, I left it and jetted. Well, the Vengeful Cart Union of South Florida Winn Dixies got me back by tossing windblown carts in my path as I tried to drive out of the parking lot. It was like being in a real life video game, with me downshifting and darting in and out of the way of about a half dozen carts rattling towards my car.

Somehow, I made it through, though. The wind was so strong I could feel it gently nudging my car to the side of the road.

When I got home, I left everything in the car, including my purse, thinking the faster I got to the door and got it unlocked, the better off we'd all be. I shot through the rain and threw open the door, catching a glimpse of Neal's shocked face as I struggled against the wind to shut the the front door.

By the time I'd slammed it closed and turned around, Neal's face had gone from shocked to really, really tickled. Damn it, I tried to be mad at him for laughing at soggy me, but the next thing I knew, I was dissolving into giggles, too, while wiping my wet hair out of my eyes. He got me a towel while I tried to stop shivering.

I got him back, though. After a brief interview, ("Do I HAVE to?" "Look at me! Yes!") Neal earned the job of carrying the groceries from the car to the house while I grabbed the bags from him and held open the front door. During this project, one of the hurricane shutters blew off. (Kinda defeats the purpose, huh?) I helped Neal reattach it while our landlord looked on. (He lives next door.)

Once we got settled, we flicked on The Weather Channel to see if there was a crazy hurricane blowing in that we hadn't heard about, since we'd spent the weekend huddled in that coccoon of delivered food and no need for clothes, 'cause we weren't going anywhere anyway. No storm - in fact, the forecast called for "Light Rain," which I found wildly funny.

This all reminds me that Neal and I are sadly unprepared for where we are, which is right smack in the middle of hurricane season. Last year, my paranoid ass was all, "Let's go get some big Rubbermaid containers and extra can openers and non-perishables! C'mon!"

This year, I'm all, "Eh, I've been here a year and nothing's hit. I'm sure it'll all work out in the end."

No, we really need to do the preparatory shopping. Flashlights and trail mix and photographs and extra clothes. Soon. Really. Next week. For sure. Yeah.