It was a wicked storm…the power went out around midnight and didn’t come back until late the next morning…perfectly conducive to hanging out in bed with a good book and great coffee.  UNLESS, you’re married to a man who frets and worries whenever the wind whistles; of course, in his defense, cleaning up the debris of a storm does fall under his list of responsibilities.

Regardless of the fretting I’d have stayed in bed all morning…but we needed to spend the day in Bangor buying supplies for the goat house and meeting with the accountant, so reluctantly I got up, Steve started the generator so we could have hot showers before we headed “to the city” and the day was frittered away (is that really the right word?)