When it takes more than two books of stamps to pay your end of the month bills.
And your daughter is entering her seventh month without speaking to you.
And your house has been on the market for nine months.
And you turned down the chance to make real money for the noble cause of a small money project that blew up and paid virtually nothing.
And the dog's prescriptions are almost as much as yours.
And you've spent most of the morning on hold.
And your internet connection is out.
You'd think it would be at least a bit of good news when the internet came back up.
But the first email I opened said Hurricane Frances is heading to the coast. The next day or so will tell us whether she's visiting South Florida or somewhere around the area of ... right about where I'm sitting right now.
Locals tell you we're on the western most point of the East Coast, protected in the little Georgia cradle. Our last evacuation a couple years ago meant only minor damage. It would be nice to believe local lore.
Unfortunately this is actually a 100-year storm kinda place and the last one hit hard in 1802.
The island is overdue and the way my luck has been running, I can't see it going any other way. If I were my fellow citizens, I'd vote me off the island . Immediately.
Jen will be visiting friends out of harm's way, leaving Charlie and I with the possibility of an inland evacuation with Smokie-the-85-pound-drooling-Lab and three cats (who don't like car travel or sharing small spaces).
It would be a shame to see all the prettying up done for Bush's G-8 conference here earlier this summer get flattened.
So maybe we'll be spared.
New York and St. Simons have already had a nasty wave of Republicans this summer... a hurricane would be repetitive.
Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs