We’re having an SBP (Storm of Biblical Proportion) as I type this. A minute ago, the deck door blew open with a bang, the lights went out, and Veronica peed on the floor. I’d have yelled, but basically, it was only by drawing on my fifty-eight years of accumulated maturity that I kept from joining her. It’s times like this that I think, as I look out at the massive trees tossing in the wind as the temperature drops and the hail begins to fall, “All this glass. All these trees. Who thought that was a good idea?” At least I’ll go with a magnificent view. Continue reading
