The brown windows on the back building in this photo are plywood. This is not atypical of high-rises in downtown Miami. I don't know the construction year for the building in question, but I would guess it dates to the late '70s, back in the golden age of contracting graft, exceeded only by the cocaine cowboy era of the '80s, and possibly the first building boom of the '20s. I'm sure many shady operators wipe a tear when they think of those halcyon days before Hurricane Andrew, when all your needed to build a subdivision or an office park was a winning smile, a sketch on a cocktail napkin, and a briefcase full of unmarked bills. Ah, those were the days!

In other news, it's raining, leaving the air humid and still. The weather is now slowing down the restoration of service to those poor, sad bastards still in the dark. Yes, I am one of those poor, sad bastards.

Okay, I know that this isn't that bad compared to what people in the Gulf are still going through, but I am really tired of this darkness. My cicadian rhythms are getting all out of whack — I am waking up at 6:00 ready to milk the cows, and by 7:00 at night I'm ready for sleep. I may be from Kentucky, but I am not a farmer at heart. This is almost nine days without power, and the neighborhood all around me is starting to light up. It's my turn.

Yeah, I'll stop whining. I'm not out of rum yet.