The weather gods are clearly binge-watching disaster flicks and I seem to be cast as the unwitting protagonist. You’d think the storm would eventually get bored and wander out of my neighborhood… but no. The months are sprinting toward winter like it owes them money, and I’ve been barricaded indoors so long I’m starting to forget what sunlight feels like. There’s still a mountain of tasks to tackle, but nature’s been playing gatekeeper with a flair for dramatic timing.

Last time I dared to step outside, I was nearly smited by a rogue gust and a sky that looked like it had a beef with me personally. Any rational person would’ve taken the hint. But me? I’m apparently auditioning for “Survivor: Medieval Edition.”