I head off tomorrow for three days in Mexico, where Hurricane John is currently vacationing, in all of his Category 4 glory. How dare a hurricane show up at Puerta Vallarta, right when I'm going there?! And still the airlines are flying there and no one is telling me NOT to travel, so tonight I shall pack for the trip.
As if on cue today at work, as the stories of the hurricane reached me, an Aussie Catholic priest who is new to Chicago called up to find out how to join some of the Aussie expat organisations we have here. After chatting a bit about that, I mentioned my holiday and proffered that my chances for a sunny vacation were less than likely - but remedying that was probably HIS area, not mine. Perhaps he could have a word to someone upstairs?
And Padre's suggestion in response? I should pray to Saint Agatha, the patron saint of natural disasters. And given how hungover I felt all day today, I figured I was probably faring just slightly better than Mexico - and having a quiet word to Agatha wouldn't be too bad.