I get sick and tired (literally, medically) and am unable to work full time for 6 months and just when I’m getting back in the groove of things and easing into a productive, early morning schedule again, hurricane Matthew pops up and says, “Just kidding, bitch—you THOUGHT. You thought things were going back to normal.” And then he kicks me in the lady-nads.

Matthew, Matthew. Do I hate you because you’re a hurricane? Or love you because you have the same first name as the best quarterback in the NFL? Or do I cringe because you’re also the name of one of my exes?

I cringe and cry because you’re a goddamn hurricane. Not one that puts me in any huge amount of danger, hopefully—what I’m a bit more worried about is the people who can’t afford to just up and move during this mandatory evacuation and are taking freaking Carta buses to safe shelters. Let’s pray for ‘em.

So there’s a tinge of gratefulness and a tinge of oh shit-ness. Here’s the bad news:

  • My brother and best friend were literally kicked out of downtown Charleston because shit’s getting so real there. So they have to stay with me 30 miles inland.
  • I’m worried I won’t get as much work done because 2 of my 3 favorite people on earth are trapped in a house with me and lots of alcohol and no work schedule for the rest of the week.

Here’s the good news:

  • I have 2 of my 3 favorite people here with me during this giant shitstorm and we get to try to stay safe and sound together. And the other 4th of my heart is safe at home with her husband.
  • We have lots of alcohol. Am I drunk now? You don’t know. You can’t prove it.
  • There’s a Clemson game on Friday night.
  • The BFF is so good to me that she let me abandon her to go write this and get some other work done while she’s in the other room watching Grey’s Anatomy. She wants me to work and get my shit in order. She’s good to me.
  • I get to see my brother’s angel of a dog, Sadie.

Matthew Don’t Give a Shit About Your Plans

And it’s just gonna have to be alright for now, because what else can you do?

Plans change. Blog post-writing time gets cut short down to half an hour because you’re suddenly hosting your people during a category 3 hurricane. The wine you stocked up on for the whole week accidentally gets a bit too dipped into because fuck it, there’s a hurricane coming.

What’s a gal to do?

Pretty sure it’s this: have a drink, shift the work schedule around, be flexible—and feel good knowing the people I love the most are in the next room.