Fire season is a heart attack and a seizure wrapped up in a slow bout of severe pneumonia.
Every minute is a stressful one, and it lingers for a month or two: you are literally expecting the next moment to either be your last or pretty d@mn close to it. And you can't fcuking breathe.
When we evac'd in 2019, we still came back home... I would wake up every other hour out of some bizarre insomniatic obsession to go out and see if the smoke was more intense or if I could see an orange glow.
Since it was like 70º nights, i didn't even bother getting dressed at 11... 1... 3... ... And every morning we would drive to the nearest town that wasn't evac'd and hang out at this restaurant and bakery from breakfast through lunch, charging our phones, reading news, eating.
It was the glamping version of a faux evac without power due to the PG&E PSPS which lasted for a week.
F all our lives, here, on the west side of Insanity St @ Anxiety Rd.
#21st century problems / #west county problems
Grateful that I still have a home and amazing speakers to listen to.
First responders are the sh!t.
I <3 CalFire
And Fcuk every Fcuk-tard that doesn't think Fcuking climate change is a problem.