. . . walking through a supermarket when there's no dairy or meat and few fresh vegetables but being ever so grateful that they have bread and power so that you can use your debit card and get cash . . .
. . . realizing your neighbors have all heeded the request to bag and secure debris by the curb (the request you've been typing and sending out all day) but YOU haven't and so you pile all the fallen shingles and limbs you carefully collected on Sunday into a garbage can at 9 p.m. . . .
. . . seeing the man you feared was going to renege on his promise to roof your house on the roof as you come home for lunch and smiling at his broken English explanation that until he has shingles he can't do the work, so yes there is a tarp in case it rains . . .
. . . coming home to the smell of slow cooked chicken and vegetables simmering in the kitchen before the smell of wet carpet pads hits your nostrils as you enter the bedroom and master bath . . .
. . . being grateful for rabbit ears with which to get a local channel, watching more post-hurricane reports than you care to, and then discovering your cable was restored in the wee morning hours . . .
. . . wishing that you got at least one day off to realize what you'd been through . . . like a dummy, I worked on a mailing the days after the storm and then had to be back at work on Monday so reflection moments have been rather limited . . . I want to go to Austin with my buddy or sit by the pool with my teacher friend . . .
. . . feeling guilty about in any way pouting about the above . . .