Storm Update #3: I gotta get out of here




This from a glancing blow from last year's hurricane season.
I am headed there now.

Maine: Where nothing ever happens.

Maybe my opinion is skewed from living in Utah. Trapped miners. Wives being killed by psychotic husbands. Wildfires. We had it all.

Maine? Nothing ever happens here. Even a yoga class at my preferred yoga center is on as scheduled today. C'mon. Give me something to work with here. YOGA NOT CANCELED isn't the sexiest headline in the world.

That's what you get for living this far East. A geographical primer for you: We are about 1,000 miles east of Gary, Indiana, and in the same time zone. As a result of being so far east in the time zone, the sun comes up at about 5:30 a.m. in August. In June, it's more like 4:30.

Early to rise. Early to bed. That's the Maine way.

The storm is tracking west of us, back to my old stomping grounds around Dartmouth College. So I'm going to take the girl for a little drive. We're going to the coast to see if we can find some trouble. Or storm damage. Or a sausage McMuffin with egg. My God. If every meal McDonald's made was as good as their breakfast, I would be morbidly obese.

To the coast! If I'm not back blogging by noon EDT, please call the Maine Highway Patrol and tell them it's probable that nothing has happened. It is Maine, after all.

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