Weathering weather.

Yes, I know the London bombings happened a few days ago and this, of course, has been mentioned in every diary I've read since then. I do feel a touch insensitive by not having the emotional drive to pound out even the measliest of sentences on the subject, but there we are. I have a much more pressing problem at hand and it's called hurricane Dennis.
April before last, I moved down here to the land of orange juice and boiled peanuts and was blessed to experience the worst hurricane season on record. I was not prepared. Not prepared emotionally, physically or financially for hurricane Charley to plow over and around my house with all of the fury of hell wrapped up in wind gusts over 100 miles an hour and sideways rain. I've been through snowstorms, ice storms, heat waves, tornados and yes, even an earthquake but a category 4 hurricane make all of these phenomenon look like little tiny piss ants at the park.
Then came Frances, a large, lumbering category 2 that hailed from the east coast and covered most of the state with her enormous bulk for hours and hours on end with her snail paced progress. Her winds were formidable but her rains are what caused so much damage here, inched upon inches upon inches of rain, never ending sheets of water pouring from the sky. Then Ivan came, missing me initially, so I breath a sigh of relief only to see him bounce around the US like a fucking cue ball, turning 360 degrees and coming back in the direction he arrived, like he forgot to grab something from the house before he left. Now, that's an excellent example of shit luck.
Finally Jeanne made her entrance. At this point, people were moving out of Florida because they just couldn't handle anymore fear. You watch a gargantuan, lumbering tornadic cloud mass make it's way slowly towards you and the ones you love for days on end and look me straight in the face and tell me you haven't had enough. Jeanne killed 1,100 people in Haiti. Killed them. Dead. Adding to that is everyone's hysteria pressing in at you from all sides, the news (yes, they get freaked out, you should have seen the local news anchor during Charley last year, he was acting like we were getting hit by a bomb) your neighbors, friends, co-workers, strangers at the grocery story and Target. There's a distinct, low vibration of panic that inundates and permeates everything like a sticky emotional residue that's emitted by the community and if you stay locked inside your house to avoid other people�s terror then you just drown in your own. Ready to pack your shit and leave yet? Thought so.
Hurricane season begins in June and ends in October; at this date in time, we have had two hurricanes, both of which I have felt the effect. Arlene blew past us but left me with a day and a half of gray, raining windy stormy weather and now Dennis is here. So, the entire situation in London is devastating, on so many levels, but I'm really just worried about number 1 right now, and that's me.