A
storm the reporters obsess over.
The
largest since 1988.
I’m
not particularly concerned.
The
real storm is in my head.
A
homework hurricane.
A
“how-can-I-possibly-do-this?!” cyclone.
A
storm of epic proportions.
A
gale that blows my mind.
A
tempest-like tornado of topsy-turvy twists and turns.
A
windstorm of work, work, work.
An
exercise elevated.
A
blizzard of busywork.
A
stress-induced racket in my head
That
I can’t seem to catch a break from.
How
much is too much?
If
the wind is blowing 75 miles per hour
And
you can’t handle it?
How
big will this Sandy-storm get
Before
people start dying
Of
sleep-deprivation, stress, and sorrow?
I
don’t know.
But
I won’t let myself be concerned anymore.
I’m
tracking this storm,
Making
a plan and preparing for the power outages
And
the aftermath that is sure to follow.