So I worked, and took conference calls, and ended up getting home at 4:30. Even though it had become obvious that Ernesto was not going to be all that (and certainly no bag of chips would be involved), I decided I needed to take down the potted plants on the porch, to prevent the accidental creation of succulent missiles in the neighborhood. To save a little trouble I put one of my giant cat cages on the porch, and put the pots into that. Everything worked out fine.

Well, except for the wind chimes. Hot, sweaty, and facing a storm is not the optimal moment to discover that a full-blown Metropolis of wasps has moved into the bamboo tubes you are moving.

Even when I am hot, tired, and sweaty I can haul ass for short distances.

Once I was done with all that, I came inside to discover that the newest NHC reading of the sheep entrails indicates that Ernesto is — to use the technical term — a dud. Cyclonus interruptus. What wonderful news, since that will cement in the dim little minds of our FOX viewing residents that hurricanes are all a lot of hooey.

Ah, well, it isn't a total loss. I happen to like canned tuna on saltines.