We awoke, not particularly worse for the wear. The wind blows from the opposite direction, still strong, potent gusts. The rains come and go, sideways, burrowing into the crevices of our old house, drip-drip-dripping here and there. As the texts make their circuit (cell calls mostly fail), we learn we're among the few with power. (It went out but returned during the night and now flickers but persists.) Our tree is doing a passible impression of the Whomping Willow. More banana trees have fallen. The news coverage is hilarious, a big fuss over little things: footage of a toppled oak, reports that the rain stings, word of overturned trash cans… The storm is moving slowly. We're not going anywhere any time soon. We play Monopoly. It's all good.