Sep. 22nd, 2005

We've spent a few hours outside tonight, yardworking -- the heat's almost bearable once the sun goes down, but it doesn't just dissipate like in St. Nowhere.

Most of the yardwork was preventative maintenance in case we get serious stormage up this way, which I'm skeptical about. But, it does keep mum calm to be Doing Something. So we took down the canopy and bagged it, then carried that, the table, the chairs, the grill, the hammock stand (ahahaha, sans hammock because Sam's bony ass broke it) and a few flowerpots into the garage. We also took in the flower box and trash bin out front, then Lucky and I re-dug the drainage channel at the bottom of the driveway and swept all the debris away.

In my head, I wrote a big thinky post comparing hurricane preparedness to earthquake preparedness; I wanted to talk about how you can't run away from an earthquake and how blindly going towards the next big inland city to get away from a storm doesn't really work in a functional way.

But I'm too tired to write it, particularly considering all the arguments that would come with it. So, mleh. If you argue with the above, I reserve the right to ignore you. Consider yourself warned.

There's a storm coming. We won't get much more than high wind and rain here, but you can't get bread or gasoline for love or money in Austin right now, so it's a good thing we have the emergency supplies laid in anyway. Lucky's brothers in north Houston are safe and we're hoping Mama Ticky out in Bellaire is; she's on a hill and she has a preparedness kit too. Lucky's oldest brother will be checking on her and is prepared to take her away if things start to look dire, since the middle brother is a dick who is going to get a loud earful from me about familial duty if I ever see him again.

He's been a dick ever since her stay in the hospital when he insisted he was too busy to drive five miles to see her, but the utter dickness of Brother Dicky is only now showing itself. He told Mama Ticky not to bother asking him to come get her; his house is full up with people from work who tried to drive out and couldn't get more than a few miles.

Because you know, one octogenarian woman takes up so much space. Especially when she's your mother.

Dick.
Sam's Three Things About CSI!

1. OMG MARRIED WTF BBQ. Though I have to hand it to him for sitting down and figuring his head out. Unless he was just terrified. Then he deserves a smack. Either way, poor Catherine, man.

2. Oh god, whatshername is back. She's back and her accent is somehow Brooklyn now. SO MUCH WTF.

3. Um...is it me or was that a massively unsatisfying premiere? Not in the vein of "nothing was explained" or "no big explosions" as much as...well, where's the other hour? Warrick's marriage is awfully convenient, they haven't caught the bunz killer, and the other two cases read like lame sideplots put in as filler. I'm...definitely feeling unsatisfied. Also, where was the immediate medical attention for the man who just had body fluids spattered all over his face? I'm pretty sure the Las Vegas Crime Lab has heard of blood-borne viruses...

3a. Total props to Catherine, too, for not chickening out when it came time for The Talk. She laid it all out there. Nicely done.
A fly just flew into my laptop keyboard and under the F1 key. At first I thought it had flown off but then it started to buzz. I had to use a bit of paper to prod it back out into the open, which I guess killed it because it was definitely dead when I washed it down the sink, covered in keyboard lint.

That has to be one of the strangest computer-related things that has ever happened to me.

Go ahead. Make the obvious joke.

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