It's said that weather here in South Cascadia is, despite all the modern prognostication tools that exist, notoriously unpredictable.
I don't know if that's just reputation, subjective truth, or actual truth. I do know, as a native-born Oregonian, that once you think you know what's coming down the pike, there is a large chance that you are going to be hoisted up on one very large pétard.
The wind, we find, has introduced us to the wonderful world of minor home repairs – the wind took the metal cap off the chiminey. Now, we have to go up on the roof and look into things. Also, the commute into work tonight is going to be a stone cold pain in the exhaust.
Work itself is going to be an exquisite agony. I wish I could go on about it, but at this time, I have a strict embargo on news from the barely-bill-payer. Have notice that opining about that on the 'blogside gets you into trouble these days.
At least I have the next three days off.