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Monday, December 10, 2001

This wasn't a good day to be reading Stephen King. Especially the early pages of the book, where you're not quite sure yet exactly what's happening. You're on edge every time you turn the page. There's palpable evil in the air.

Yeah, well. That's how I felt all day, and I wasn't the only one. Any time the wind blows this hard without letting up, everyone's nerves are frayed. I came whisper close to a three-way collision in the post office parking lot this morning, only because I was edgy and wanted out of there badly.

It wasn't that I didn't look. I looked in as many directions as my head would turn, but as soon as I started backing out, everybody else did the same thing. And all three of us stopped at the same time, with enough room to spare so that we could acknowledge each other and ease our way out to the street.

I wouldn't have been in the post office parking lot in the first place if that chilly wind hadn't been blowing. Ordinarily I'd park three blocks away (in the roomy Food 4 Less lot) and walk to the post office, but I've been battling something that feels like a cold, and walking that far in the wind seemed like an especially bad idea.

While I was waiting for a space at the post office, a van pulled around me and drove to the dead end of the row. He had no place to park, either, and it's a good thing two spots opened up at the same time. Otherwise he would have had to deal with me. And I would have been in a huff. I'm a force to be reckoned with when I'm in a snit. You don't want to mess with me when I'm in a tizzy.

What was I talking about again? Oh, right, the wind. This is interesting, isn't it? I'm on the naked, raspy edge of sanity because of the static electricity in the air, or some such phenomenon. I'm not Mr. Weather Guy (and frankly, who is?), but I know when my throat burns and my eyes sting because of something in the air. (Plus, as I mentioned, I'm predisposed to be a little jumpy thanks to Stephen King (who, come to think of it, has a lot to answer for)).

Anyway, I got home and planted myself behind four solid walls for the rest of the day, so much the better for anyone who might have crossed my path.

southern skyline

Vapor trail, cloud, treetops.

I don't know how you measure wind chill, but the thermometer said 52F, and it felt totally glacial outside. Even looking out the kitchen window, I could feel those icy fingers when I watched the eucalyptus limbs that hang over my driveway as they lurched ominously back and forth and up and down. Small branches were everywhere, but I was sure the big ones were waiting for me to be walking beneath them before they snapped off and ... Well, you know the rest, if you've ever read any Stephen King.

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