After thanking my lucky stars on Saturday that I don’t live in New York City (and not for the first time, I might add), a violent thunderstorm knocked out power last night until after 1 a.m. Rather than ensure an early and extended night’s sleep, as one might expect, a confluence of unfortunate circumstances (too much caffeine consumed too late in the day, an unusually late take-out dinner, chirping smoke alarms) made for a very long night. There is only so much reading one can do by flashlight.
Roughly three hours sleep, and the day is off to a rough start. Volunteer work in the morning, a script to be written, and recording to be done for tomorrow night’s “Picture Perfect.” All First World problems, I know. The internet is made for whining.
Good training for the impending solar flare that is fated to destroy all electronics. Nessun dorma!
The apocalyptic forecast:
Luciano Pavarotti finds the fortitude I lack:
