Friday morning dawned sunny. I started the day working on some things for my class, reading my work email, etc. Around 10:00, I left my "office" to make some more coffee. Upon my return, I noticed that the dog had vacated the room, leaving behind a torn-up cardboard piece of what had been a full pack of Orbit gum. I was a bit concerned about what happens to a dog when he eats an entire pack of gum, so I called the vet, who told me to bring him in immediately. I looked on the internet, and it seems that Orbit gum contains xylitol, which can kill dogs.
Full-on panic mode.
Dog is rushed to the emergency vet. Blood sugar is low. Vomiting is induced.
Five hours later, the hurricane is on the way and the dog is on a glucose drip. We make the decision to take him anyway, as we are more uncomfortable with leaving him at the vet during a hurricane that with any leftover effects of the xylitol.
This turns out to be a wise choice. Several hours later, Ike roars in - literally. Huddled in a boarded-up, pitch-black house, Ike sounds like a freight train. We hear bangs and rattles and the dog freaks out and no one sleeps. Morning comes and curiosity gets the better of us. We venture out - Me, Husband, his sister, her guy, the dog. Trees are everywhere. The streets are blocked by giant oaks who have held on for dear life, ripping the sidewalk out of the ground as they've fallen. The back fence is no longer there. Down the street, neither is a neighbor's chimney. We stare at each other, open-mouthed. This was a category TWO? We feel lucky.
We stop feeling lucky 24 hours later. The power is still not on, we are out of ice, and it is 90 degrees outside. People are lined up to get into the grocery store. The line stretches far into the parking lot. There is no gas. We have full tanks in two cars. We flee to Austin, where we find a hotel that accepts dogs. It is, in fact, filled with dogs. They are everywhere. We enjoy two nights of air-conditioning, though I sleep on the floor. There is no room. I no longer want to be married or have any friends or relatives. I would like to go and live in a cave with my dog.
Finally, the hotel has no more room for us and we head home to another week with no power. We eat beef jerky and canned chili and try not to punch each other as we sweat and play board games and go to sleep at 8 pm because we can no longer see and have nothing else to do. We are loaned a generator and use it to power a large fan. After the first two days, the heat grows more and more oppressive.
It has now been a week. One street over from us, the power is on. Our friends in other neighborhoods have power. We see no Centerpoint Energy trucks in our neighborhood. Briefly, our power flicks on. I rejoice,only to start crying ten minutes later when it goes back off and does not resume. We begin to plan a riot at city hall. I design posters decrying the abilities of the mayor's office. Unfortunately, the sun goes down while I'm still in the planning stages and I can no longer see to create my posters.
The next day, it is 85 degrees at 9 AM. No longer able to stand the heat, we purchase a window unit air conditioner for $130. We spend the next hour attempting to rig the thing into our bedroom window, which opens horizontally rather than vertically. The air conditioner is made for a vertically-opening window. Garbage bags, packing tape, two Where's Waldo? books and a pad of expensive watercolor paper are creatively utilized. Dripping with sweat, Husband blocks the door to the bedroom and floods it with air while I finally appreciate the fact that my shower only produces cold water. Husband, Dog, and I are cloistered in our bedroom until the sun goes down. We are two hot to move and too annoyed to speak to each other. We no longer have the energy to riot.
10 PM: The four 60-watt lights in our overhead fan blaze on. We stare at each other. Bedraggled, we wait. We do not believe that the lights will stay on. We refuse to be hopeful.
11PM: Every light in the house has been turned on. The air conditioner is set to 60 degrees. The window unit is set to 60 degrees. We are eating nasty, greasy pizza straight from the box while watching South Park DVDs. Life is good again. We decide to go to sleep with heavy blankets just so we can keep the air conditioners on as low as they will go. For the first time in a week, we sleep soundly.
PRESENT DAY: We have still not finished cleaning the mess or catching up from the week of work that we missed. But we no longer want to riot, strangle each other, or run away from home. Things are back to normal, but I must admit that a have found a new appreciation for electricity. This was a reality check. First of all, I now know exactly how much I take for granted. Also, I finally appreciate what a direct-hit hurricane can really do. I've lived here for AGES, been through half a dozen hurricanes, but I've always been on the outskirts of the damage. This time, a relatively weak hurricane charged right through my neighborhood and turned it upside down. Perhaps my "After the Rita debacle, I refuse to evacuate, EVER" decision was a bit premature.......
