- Charge all devices! You might blow away in the storm, but at least you'll have enough battery to call home from Oz.
- Give the house a manic cleaning. If you're going to be trapped inside for 36 hours, you might as well not be stuck in a sty.
- Take final shower AFTER cleaning but BEFORE filling the tub with emergency water.
- Drill at least one peep hole in your hurricane shutters. How else will you witness your neighbor's palm tree uprooting itself and flying through the air like a javelin?
- Log into Overdrive and download every library book. (Your actual books might blow away if the roof comes off).
- Realize you have no safe place to stash your car. Encase it in cling wrap and submerge in the canal behind your house.
- Panic-buy supplies because you never got around to stocking your hurricane kit at the beginning of the season. (Don't forget the dried fruit! You'll thank yourself later when everyone else has gone without roughage for a while.)
- Realize you never bought water and that it's too late because every store in the Eastern seaboard is sold out. Panic for a full ten seconds; then remember that your kitchen still works. (And still exists.) Fill Tupperware containers and Ziplock bags and mixing bowls and measuring cups from the tap and store them in the fridge like the rational problem-solver that you are.
- Monitor rising water levels, trying not to dwell on the fact that the canal behind your house is full of alligators and that you could soon be facing a nightmare Captain Hook situation. Toss alarm clocks into the canal for gator-tracking purposes. (Just try not to hit your car.)
- Respond to panicked texts from out-of-town relatives right away. Assert that no matter what the over-the-top national weather services are reporting, Florida is not going to be wiped off the map. Though we might wake up when it's over and discover a sailboat in the lobby of city hall, the state of the Union will likely be preserved.
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