Storm Fatigue – A Story in Three Pictures

Driving home on Thursday night, I was greeted by a flashing sign:

I keep the bare necessities of life in The Coop; I was looking forward to a few days of isolation and solitude in the midst of the roaring wind and snow.  I had even planned a blog post called “Living a la Mode” about the beautiful, ice-cream like snow covering everything.  In theory, it seemed like a perfect “dreamer’s holiday.”

Then there was high tide at 10:08 a.m. on Saturday:

The Atlantic Ocean started pacing down the street, just a trickle at first.  But since no one has figured out how to fully bridle the oceans, it broke into a full wild gallop.  Some people on my street were in a panic and they made me nervous.

I have never had any flooding inside The Coop.  Not yet.

Then I saw Anthony.  Remember Anthony?  I recognized his backhoe immediately and I was relieved.  Anthony might not be able to stop the oceans from their fury, but I knew he would do his best to help me and my neighbors.  He even took thirty seconds to smile and say “hello.”  His “hello” comforted me; it was like being at home and knowing Uncle Bob was just around the corner.

Today is Sunday; the third day of the storm.  The weather puppets say the sun will be out so it will be a good day for cleaning up.  When I’m done, I am going to take a serious Sunday nap and shake my storm fatigue.

You rest too.  

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