Gotta have priorities in line

Monday is the beginning of another hurricane season. Our last three have been very quiet indeed.

Quiet, however, is more the norm for us than the seasons of 2004 and 2005 when we got hit by pieces of four storms each year and it seemed like every other weekend was another exercise in getting ready for the big blow.

So I have a hunch that this season, forecast to be below average anyway, will be another quiet year.

That doesn’t mean we won’t get everything ready just in case, it simply means that I intend to put in as little time as possible in that endeavor.

We need a good light-duty tropical storm to come through so it can dump loads of rain on us and rejuvenate the landscape. Those light-duty storms don’t bother anyone. Most of us are just glad to get the day off, and all we have to worry about is cleaning up the leaves and dead palm fronds when it’s over.

Because the last three years have been such do-nothing seasons in terms of hurricanes and tropical storms, except for Fay dumping all that much-needed rain on us, I was pretty sure that our usual stock of hurricane supplies had dwindled, either by expiration or by normal use.

So last weekend I went through the motions (without much enthusiasm) of checking on the various supply levels.

I started with water. We usually keep about five gallon jugs under the sink counter for emergency purposes, and some smaller bottles in the refrigerator.

The refrigerator was bare of bottled water and the cabinet under the sink was empty.

There’s a bucket in that same cabinet that we use to pitch stray batteries into on a regular basis. It also holds all the small flashlights. The big ones are either in the shed to be pulled out as needed, or on top of the refrigerator where they sit unused until needed.

There were only D cell batteries in the bucket. We were all out of AAA, AA, C and 6-volt. I began to wonder where all those batteries could have gone until I remember that every grandchild that comes around eventually gets a battery operated something, or brings a battery operated something that goes dead while at our house. We dip into that supply for all those needs, and eventually our stash is all used up.

This was going to be a rather expensive re-stocking campaign this year.

I looked on the top shelf of the cupboard where we keep the non-perishable food items for hurricane season. It was bare. No SPAM, no tuna, no canned stews, no rice, no noodles, nothing that could even remotely be called edible, unless you count the dust bunny way in the back, which I guess with a little sugar could be tolerated as palatable.

I looked on the kitchen window sill where we keep the emergency candles. We keep them much more accessible than other hurricane supplies because we live way back in the refuge and power goes out on a weekly basis for some reason.

The big four-inchers were gone. The stack of votives was gone. There were three two-inchers left on the shelf. I couldn’t even begin to guess where all those had gone. Maybe they just melted in the heat and wound up in the great round file.

I was beginning to get a little worried that we’d have to address every part of the hurricane kit, but the safety box was in place with the important paperwork, and the first aid kit was where it was supposed to be.

Downstairs, the generators were in place, but looked like they needed work. The gas cabinet was open and all the cans dry. More issues with which we would have to deal in the very near future.

I returned to the kitchen and opened the cabinet where my bourbon supply is supposed to be stashed.

Empty……

Now I was at wit’s end. There was no way I could go into a hurricane season with the bourbon cabinet dry.

I don’t care about light, or power, or even food for the couple of days it would be unavailable because we’d just cook what was in the refrigerator and freezer until it ran out so it wouldn’t spoil anyway.

But I don’t need light to hit the bourbon. I don’t need power to hit the bourbon. I don’t need food to hit the bourbon.

But I need bourbon.

The three bottles of wine, something we rarely drink anyway, wouldn’t do the trick. The three beers in the refrigerator would have a chance to get warm and nasty before I’d get around to them. The ice would run out long before I could get my hands on it.

I didn’t need any of that stuff for bourbon. Bourbon doesn’t care, and neither does the dedicated bourbon drinker, if it’s cold or warm. It doesn’t care if it’s kept in the light or dark. It’s bourbon, and it lives by its own rules.

And I was out.

That’s not gonna happen. I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs to get in the Jeep and go get the bourbon. The Jeep was gone. The car was there, but Holly had both sets of keys.

It was raining, so the motorcycle was out (I’m not that fond of riding).

I had to admit defeat, return to the house and stare at the empty bourbon shelf.

Tomorrow, I will fix that.

After all, one must have his priorities–right?

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