NO PLACE LIKE HOME . . .

I always miss the good stuff. No, no, I'm not just being self-pitying: it's really true. Something always beckons me away from the television set during the last four minutes of the show. I always arrive on scene about 30 seconds after the most exciting thing that evening has happened. I always glance in the wrong direction when the most spectacular firework is set off.

And from this afternoon on, I will always be indoors, working on something intensely and ignoring the thunderstorm outside, when two tornadoes blow through town and touch down. Rats.

Not that tornadoes are "good stuff." I say that only because I know that only five people suffered minor injuries, because no one is dead, and because houses and roads appear to be fixable. So given all that ... I can't believe I missed the good stuff again. When does a tornado ever blow through the metro-New York area? NEVER. And I missed it.