So I was holding my breath for about 24 hours as Frankenstorm surged and tried to decide where to strike next. Even in my zombie funk I knew that, if the Weather Channel was accurate and the weather gods so inclined, South Philly would be slammed with gusts of up to 75 miles per hour and up to eight more inches of rain, and the huge weed tree behind my house would not withstand the onslaught.
I phoned a friend for advice and he said, “Just wait it out. Too late to start sawing.”
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