And perhaps the weekend, depending on the whims of Jeanne.

Hey, if it’s a weekend in southeast Florida, it must be time for a hurricane!

It looks very much like we’ll have to put the storm shutters and plywood back up, and prepare for a whole lot of shakin’, rain and wind goin’ on sometime in the next forty-eight hours. We filled the cars last night–the lines weren’t bad, but the Mobil I went to was already out of regular (didn’t matter, since the Bimmer takes high-test, though I cheat and only give it 89 octane, with nary a knock).

Off to the store this morning to get the last scraps of food, amidst the panicked hordes. We’re actually not in bad shape, since we restocked after Frances in anticipation of Ivan, who on his long excursion seems to have obligingly hit everyone in the southeast except us, and so we still have supplies on hand. We even still have a few bags of ice in the garage freezer. The main thing is perishables (I’d like to pick up a frozen roast and chicken, which serve as ice-chest coolers until they thaw, after which they can be thrown on the grill).

I’ve decided that this is one more reason to be unhappy with Florida living (not that I didn’t already have enough), but it probably is unusual.

I hope. I do know that I’m starting to get stressed out from hurricane fatigue.