Storms never last – do they?
A friend writes that she woke up wishing she were somewhere else. I told her it is the storm (Ike is wrecking havoc over New Orleans as he skirts us) because I woke yelling from a dream where I was trapped in a beer pub in the suburbs somewhere and one of my friends had braided her hair in cornrows and I was screaming “I WANT OUT! OUT! OUT!”
When I opened my eyes, Loca was banging against her kennel and came barreling out like a bulldozer.
My friend said, “Yeah, but this storm has lasted three years…”