I didn’t write here yesterday because supposedly we were all going to die from the biggest storm in the history of the world.
What ACTUALLY happened was that I took a nap and then waited for the power to go out while watching True Blood thanks to our free-for-six-months premium channels.
I got through almost all of season three, better known as The Season Where Everyone Wears Improbably Long Fake Eyelashes, Including I Am Pretty Sure Alcide In One Episode, And Alfre Woodard Does Stuff Where She Pretends To Be Insane But Looks Like She Just Came Home From The Spa.
Seriously, if you’re supposed to be fresh out of a mental institution where you have spent the last ten years throwing applesauce around, shouldn’t your skin be SLIGHTLY less than rich and glowing? Alfre has never looked genuinely bad in her life, but if every time she walks onscreen I go “Wow, lady, you look like you’ve been bathing in fermented heavy cream and rubbed with the tears of purebred kittens; can I touch you?” maybe you need to talk with the makeup artist.
Obviously, the power did not go out. Nor did any trees come down or anything else I can figure out. I know they lost some big limbs down on the Common in Boston, and people tell me some trees have fallen elsewhere, but here it was nothing worse than any thunderstorm we get on a regular basis. I’m going to take some pictures as soon as the light is good, and meanwhile I’m just going to sit here at my grandma’s table drinking coffee and talking about what a narrow escape we just had from Mississippi while waving my inch-long mink eyelashes around. As one does.