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Well, not really. Probably not, anyway.
It's blowing like hell outside. They're calling it "gusts," as in "gusts to 70 mph," which seems about right. I like the idea of imagining being in my house whilst traveling down the highway on a flatbed. :D
I've been watching bits of roofing drift by, bopping along the dirt roadway. The roadway which is probably an inch lower than it was this morning, because the haze in our little cow-town is dense.
Something on my roof is clunking around. The seal around my front door is less perfect than I thought, whistling like it's getting the mice out of Bremen. And the dog door won't stop. Creak, thud. Creak, thud. Creak, thud. :crazy:
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