I finished moving into my residential college as a storm began
- fat raindrops, as big as coconuts, falling from a black and fouling sky.

These northerners were acting like a "tropical storm" (Henri) was a big deal.

“Surely New England gets storms?” I ask, from behind my mask.
“What about NOR_Easters?” I say, like a meteorologist.
“Those are different.” I’m told, with no other explanation.

“Did you bring this storm from the “SOUTH?” I’m asked, accusingly.
(This was after I told them about coming from one ”bulldog-college-town” to another.)
“Yes.” I reply, “It was in my luggage.”

A silly question but they have a point - the storm feels like it’s involved and fulfilling some obligation to dramatize my college move-in story.

“Time to quarantine!” I’m informed - “Yep, can’t WAIT!” I lie.

One disaster at a time.