It appears now that the eye will pass to the east of us -- the second best outcome for us (the best, of course, being that it dissipates off the coast, which seems a rather remote possibility at this point). This will put us on the better side of the storm, though there will still be significant problems with flooding and winds. We're still expecting to be without power at some point for an undetermined length of time, but we filled the freezer with 2 litre bottles full of drinking water, there are plenty of bottles in the fridge too. We'll do the final preparations this morning and then, just wait and see.
I have to take the bird feeder down soon, but it's very busy right now with a bunch of sparrows filling up before the storm arrives. Kipper is sitting on the window seat, eyes glued to their fluttering wings. Even Maggie is prowling around when she would usually be asleep. They can no doubt feel the difference -- air pressure? or just the quiet? It's not silent, but quiet enough that every sound magnifies. A car driving down Main Street reverberates here. A dog barks, and the echoes resound across the streets as the next dog picks up the cry.
No paper this morning -- it's amazing how much of my morning routine depends on poring through the paper. I guess I can read it online, but it's not the same. But the radio is on, "bringing us news of fresh disasters," to steal a line from Beyond the Fringe (must write up that review, absolutely brillant DVD!). Perhaps it's time to turn off the radio -- obsessively retelling the tragic story of that bus does not add anything new.
Thanks for all the kind wishes, folks. It's always wonderful (and humbling) to know how many people care about us.
Did I mention just how eerie it is to have Houston so quiet? This is hardly the city that never sleeps, but it's really been emptied out in a most unaccountable way. Everything is closed. It's quite bizarre.
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