Deluge

These days, I sit at my window, Edith Wharton volume in hand and thoughts of doom in my head. Clearly, this city is a dumping ground for the elements. First, there was heavy rain and I was pleased. Spring showers have a magical quality about them, they tend to activate those thoughts of romance left dormant and, God, how I wish I could just lounge about and pine about romances waiting to happen, but sadly, some jarring news caused me to tumble out most unceremoniously from these imaginings: there is to be a flood. And at the rate things are progressing, it may as well be The Flood of Adam: The Sequel and this time, we aren't taking the rabbits!

The good people of this city (town) took it upon themselves to construct a dike made entirely of sandbags! How exquisite! Scoff, if you must, but all this is so new for me! Of course, the very thought of going outside in the pouring rain and hauling sand-bags seemed repugnant at first. Hamlet, who had just returned from a mini-break, was quickly reminded how vitriolic I could be as I said, "I am thinking of others, I'd love for them to sand-bag!" in response to one of his comments about looking to the greater good. How is it my fault really? I spent most of my youth suspended in a sort of 'Lost Generation' ennui in the most decadent of all cities... It turns out that people actually care about things like natural disasters! Hamlet, bless him, knows exactly what makes me tick so he promised me week-long bitching/moaning rights, a Gone With the Wind moment and just a truck-load of guilt.

The mis-en-scene suddenly involved a river swelling with the promise of disaster, an overcast sky, people passing sand-bags to one another with the automatic regularity of an assembly line. You know the astounding part of it all? I was a part of that chain. Hamlet, Me, his (and now mine) delightful friends S and J, full of wisecracks and good humour, passing sand-bag after sand-bag. No matter that I was dirty, no matter that tomorrow every bone in my body would sing the Habanera, I was just so happy! I mean there I was, all smeared in mud, trepidation on my face crying out, "As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!"
Few people got it, but those who did were rather appreciative! In fact, I am almost glad that I was filthy and wearing, to put it nicely, 'home clothes'...it enhanced the 'Gone With the Wind' effect! Oh and you know what is truly the most astounding part? I didn't use my bitching/moaning licence at all! I was helping out, and God knows, I have never done that before! I connected with S and J and I love them! But most importantly, and I am sure that even Hamlet doesn't realise this, the experience showed me that I am not quite as shallow as I give myself credit for being. Oh there is hope for me yet!

So here I am, sitting at my window, Wharton volume in hand as the ever so clever Santiago blasts Bob Dylan and 'New Orleans is Sinking'. I chortle but there I cannot supress that tinge of horror as the snow begins to fall...


Until the next time,
GossipGuy!