I'm Going To Die Alone

A windy blizzard is picking up steam in the Northeast with predicted snowfall upwards of three feet in some areas. I live on the shoreline of CT, in a flood zone, and I have to stay home and protect my cats and dog from starvation while my husband, a government employee, is forced to sleep at his office. The end is nigh.

When power is lost and I slip into a hypothermia-induced coma before silently freezing to death, I know my cats will eat my face. Truffles might try to protect my body, but she's kind of a wimp and afraid of cats. I've always been suspicious of the way they stare at me when I'm naked, probably sizing up my juiciest bits. Maybe they'll wait until I'm fully frozen, they love chilled cat food in the summer. Jerks. To spite them I went to the gym today, before the onslaught of Mother Nature's wicked white menses.

Unfortunately, when I was stocking up on coffee, kale, and cat food in the event of an emergency, I forgot to get baby wipes so that I can keep clean if my hot water heater isn't available, so I'm hoping Clorox wipes will do the trick on my sensitive skin. I stopped shaving my legs a couple of days ago, hoping the fur will provide the extra layer of warmth to sustain me just long enough to eat my last box of Junior Mints. It's ok, they're naturally gluten-free.

I've lived a good life with very few regrets: I often order dessert and honk at morons in traffic. I wish I watched more t.v. though, and I'll be sad to miss out on the complete season of Empire, but at least I got to finally see Sarah Palin discredited even by dumb people. While I typically love the view at my house, I'll be disappointed when the icy waves of the river coming from Long Island Sound overtake my deck, wash away my gas grill, and potentially electrocute the asshole squirrel that's always pooping on it when it takes out some precarious dangling wires.

I wish you all the best. I wish my favorite Chinese restaurant delivered.