“What smells down there?” My wife calls down to our 2 boys who are holed up in the basement. There is still nothing more than light rain, though the satellite images show one of Irene’s arms spinning right over us. Earlier, she took the boys to the laundry mat to wash some of the blankets and comforters that the kids use when they are hanging out or sleeping down there. The comforters came back smelling clean but the basement still reeks. She goes down to check, comes up and says, “The dog pooped down there and they are just lying there watching TV”. You can't make this stuff up.
I’m trying to stay focused on the book I’m reading while enjoying a Red Seal Ale. It’s a red ale from Northern California that has a nice bitter bite to it. As I poured it in the kitchen, the bottle made a scratching sound across the table. My son had picked up a sour candy making set and had spilt sugar all over the place. The kit didn’t keep him occupied for too long, but I’ll take the mess over the X-Box any day. . .
I just heard the first boom of thunder and the lights flickered shortly afterwards. I walked outside to get a better look at the sky and saw that the wind had picked up considerably. Everyone else went to bed but I might stay up to see how this thing progresses.
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