By the time dawn came — the time that forecasters had promised us we’d be buried in a coastal-effect, white swirling nightmare — the sky was clear. That dusting that swirled down the night before was all we got. The storm decided it didn’t want to do what our computers said it would do.
All that preparation was for naught. We headed into work or off to school or appointments as usual. And we all had something to complain about, something to make the sting of the Patriots’ uninspired defeat feel a little more distant.
We are so far ahead of where our ancestors were a century ago. They had no idea of all the complications that this planet is capable of. But we also have a sense that perhaps, at times like this, they were better off. They’d never know what didn’t hit them.