These are the sorts of situations that can go Lord of the Flies in a moment. I figured the most likely source of fatalities with this slow moving squall wouldn't be directly storm-induced injuries but instead cabin-fever-induced domestic blowouts: the guy who can't stand it any more and wallops his mother-in-law in the head with a frying pan.
But we weathered fine. No one got walloped. Only minor storm damage. Routines have resumed. (Sort of. This week feels like one long Monday.) The kids are back in school. We’re back to work. The "hurrication" is over. Onward and upward.
1 There were little whiffs of Katrina, literally. When the garbage crews finally made there rounds a few days late, for a few hours, our street stank that Katrina ass-stink. (Though this was a few hours. Katrina was many many months — and about an order of magnitude stronger.)