My parents have a bitey dog and a flair for dramatics. Even if this storm proves to be over-hyped, it’s possible that riding it out with those three will result in bodily harm. Psychological injury is pretty much a given. This is why I have procured a personal wine reserve.
And anyway, Sandy looks unlikely to be a bust, as the projected point of landfall is, give or take three miles, my house.
I spent this morning shuttling various small watercrafts into the garage, reinforcing walls of glass, and failing to fill my gas tank at the nearest station. They’re out of fuel. All fuel.
Then I went to the beach. As you do when doom impends. Here’s what I saw (and heard) there:
When I got home, Chris Christie was on tv. He was saying something about the Raritan River Basin and indicating the desire to be safe, as opposed to sorry. Stay tuned.