I looked up at my ceiling.
A large puckered, dark circle was right above my head. The last storm had successfully damaged my roof, and the impending hurricane was probably going to finish it off.
Time to leave.
My roommate was in VA, so I knew I wasn't getting stuck in our leaky apartment alone. The Comey family in Connecticut are life-long friends that had a bed to spare, so I gladly accepted their invitation for a weekend in Westport. My rolling suitcase was packed at 1am last night, and an alarm was set for 6:15.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Yep, definitely time to leave. Now I just needed to get there before the train system shut down at noon...
No bread left in Astoria.
This pot is almost comical. I also wrapped the couch and TV in shower curtains since the chances of damages are... quite high.
Going into the city was eerily quiet.
Grand Central was deserted when I first arrived. Not a soul was on 42nd street. And I thought I'd have to beat the crowds for a ticket out... turns out New Yorkers don't mess with hurricanes.