Endlessly Repeating Modernism

Last night was wild and wicked weather wise. We dodged a bullet as winter storm Bruce brought blizzard like conditions just north and west of us. It was still too warm here to snow, but that warmth collided with the oncoming cold front and spawned tornadoes. Chicago got socked and hundreds of flights were canceled. So, it was with more than the normal amount of trepidation that we arose at three to get Dave to his flight on time. He was still go for launch as we all drove to the airport. It was still a dark and stormy night, although little of the white stuff had landed. The wind was still howling, as it had been all night long, shaking windows and the back porch screen door, which was being blown open and then back shut again with a bang. We dropped Dave off. Said our goodbyes quickly in the razor-sharp wind-chill and were back in bed less than an hour after rising. This time we both fell back asleep and were only awakened again by Dave’s text announcing that he had landed safely in Boston, dodging a bullet.