Irene Was A Big Ripoff


I know I was freaking out and chewing my palms yesterday, but I did sort of hope for some kind of weathery impact to make all the worrying worthwhile.

But I didn’t even hear the windows rattle.

And when I opened them, a slight breeze seemed to waft in, a tiny, little air pocket that was way less forceful than on most ordinary nights!

Right now we were supposed to be approaching the terrifying peak of the storm in New York — apocalypse now, as it were — but I’m looking out my (open) window and I see people in T-shirts blithely wandering the streets, with no umbrella ella ella.

They have nowhere to go because everything was closed in a giant pudding of panic, but still, they’re out there and it’s perfectly fine, with no danger of trees falling on them or even moving!

I guess better safe than sorry, but what do I do with all my water, candles, and frayed nerves?

And let’s not even get into the bathtub full of brown water and the mountains of pasta I pre-boiled!