The TV trucks are staked out in front of Hannah's Hideaway for a good view of the boiling ocean. (The surf, however, here anyway, is no good for surfing—just mush all over everywhere.) Boats have not run for the second day, and I am kind of hoping they won't tomorrow. Tenants are supposed to be coming in, and I would have to decamp early morning. Prepping for a night on Johnny's couch before I an get into my own pace. Wind whistling in the chimney and clanking anything there is to clank. Garbage cans rolling around the lawn. It's just another blow.
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