President Obama, who's learning quite a bit about disasters of all sorts, says Irene means we must hope for the best but prepare for the worst.
So I immediately inspect my emergency supplies.
Batteries?
None, anywhere…but I'll just cannibalize all my remotes, including the ones that operate now-extinct TVs, VCRs, CD players and whatevers.
Candles?
Not really, unless you count those Christmas gifts from the same friends to whom I give candles.
No wonder they look so familiar.
And who cares if they smell like pine trees?
At least I'll be able to see in the dark, which is expected to last for hours if not days (decades?), according to the more feverish speculations on KYW Newsradio 1060, whose signal is now the soundtrack of my life.
No power also means no cooking, except for the grill, except that I don't own one.
Perhaps the neighbors will take pity on my charming haplessness.
If they don't, which seems likely, there's always the contents of that swingy little lazy susan in the corner of my kitchen.
Inspecting this carousel of goodies, I'm suddenly reminded of that long-ago shopping spree at an Indian market from which I brought home a half dozen cans and jars of korma and saag and then forgot about them.
And what's this?
A can of…shrimp.
Is "best if used by 2007" a suggestion?
Or is it like, you know, an actual warning against even thinking about peeling the lid (can opener: check) and digging in?
Oh, why not?
Korma with saag and shrimp.
A la Irene.