An ambient thickness enshrouds the Los Angeles metropolitan area tonight as we await our atmospheric destiny. Most of the birds seem to have taken shelter wherever they go when they sense danger, and the supermarket's bottled water has vanished too. Though I know where that’s gone. At least the shelves are not bare of toilet paper on this occasion. Probably because everyone bought bidets in 2020. Disaster is no longer novel.
I have about 10 days of earthquake supplies stashed in a corner base cabinet, and I’ve dug out a big candle and lighter. Every mobile device is charging. I recall the robocalls Jersey City used to send out requesting I take in my patio furniture, so I tied up the condo complex’s umbrellas and stacked the chairs. I asked the HOA manager to send out a mass email requesting people move their plants off their balcony walls, and to my surprise, everyone complied.
And so we wait. Floods are inevitable, as in Baja, but Hilary has already been downgraded to a tropical storm, so perhaps the effect on LA will be similar to the dramatic winter thunderstorms we get. We’ll find out tomorrow.
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