At 6:22 a.m. I’m in the hallway in my nightgown, holding the dog who is going crazy from excitement.  By 7 I’m dressed, fed, and waiting for rockets.  Computer and pills are packed and waiting by the door.  

Apparently we too are under attack, closed up at home.  Bombs are falling around us, infiltrators are wandering around outside. …

I think I don’t have to worry about Bruno Mars tickets tonight.