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For all of those who wished me well during my fleeting exodus from my home, and for those of you who were simply hoping to bear witness to an Internet death, I thank you. I have returned from Jacksonville to find my home intact, for which I am most relieved. I've spent the better part of two days conjuring up doomsday scenarios, each more deadly and woeful than the last. I was sure the apartment would be flooded, that I would find myself axle-deep in bilge and sewage from vomiting, overtaxed sewers, but the floors were blessedly dry. Nor did my other favorite scenario-that of the falling trees of death-come to pass. I did, however, return home to find that I'd forgotten to flush the toilet before I left on Saturday.
Oops.
My exile wasn't that bad. I was fed and warm, and though the futon wasn't Serta standard, it beat the socks off the shelter floor. The roomie's dad bought soup and sandwiches, and yesterday, he took us to St. Augustine for a stroll around St. George Street. St George is very kitsch and panders to the tourists, but the architecture is Spanish Colonial and absolutely gorgeous, and Kilwin's has the best handmade fudge and chocolate. I bought white chocolate in the shape of golf balls, and it is so good. I'm down to two and a half balls, and I want to make them last.
For what it's worth, the St. Augustine School for the Deaf and Blind and Flagler College are the bases for D.A.I.M.S. The latter has a divine Common Room, and had I realized how ornate it was, I would have used it for the D.A.I.M.S Common Room, but alas, that dubious honor goes to the cripple ranch so cleverly masquerading as a school.
Anyway, I'm home, at least until Tropical Depression Five, as it is so ominously called, picks a swath of destruction and floors it. Boy, does it feel good to be able to roll around sans pants and poop in my own toilet. Holding it in for three days because the bathrooms are inaccessible and preclude proper wiping was a drag, and I don't recommend it.
That was TMI with a capital T, wasn't it?
Off for tea and men in spandex tights, oil, and homoerotic poses.
Farewell,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jupiter_lament, from the flist.
Oops.
My exile wasn't that bad. I was fed and warm, and though the futon wasn't Serta standard, it beat the socks off the shelter floor. The roomie's dad bought soup and sandwiches, and yesterday, he took us to St. Augustine for a stroll around St. George Street. St George is very kitsch and panders to the tourists, but the architecture is Spanish Colonial and absolutely gorgeous, and Kilwin's has the best handmade fudge and chocolate. I bought white chocolate in the shape of golf balls, and it is so good. I'm down to two and a half balls, and I want to make them last.
For what it's worth, the St. Augustine School for the Deaf and Blind and Flagler College are the bases for D.A.I.M.S. The latter has a divine Common Room, and had I realized how ornate it was, I would have used it for the D.A.I.M.S Common Room, but alas, that dubious honor goes to the cripple ranch so cleverly masquerading as a school.
Anyway, I'm home, at least until Tropical Depression Five, as it is so ominously called, picks a swath of destruction and floors it. Boy, does it feel good to be able to roll around sans pants and poop in my own toilet. Holding it in for three days because the bathrooms are inaccessible and preclude proper wiping was a drag, and I don't recommend it.
That was TMI with a capital T, wasn't it?
Off for tea and men in spandex tights, oil, and homoerotic poses.
Farewell,
jupiter_lament, from the flist.Tags: