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GOODNIGHT, IRENE; GOODNIGHT, IRENE, I'll see you in my dreams. (Um, no! I won't!) I have just this to say about Irene, and then not another word, because, to tell the truth, Dear Reader, I am quite tired of hearing about her, talking about her, dealing with the mess she left behind. She has had her day!





I know the poor folks who are even now throwing out food from the fridge, taking cold showers and pining for just a wee bit of battery back-up for laptops and phones may have to go on mentioning her name, but not me!





Problems at the covered bridge have receded. Big trucks and the men who drive them spent part of today at the cockeyed telephone pole, fixing that disorder, as well.


















Just as soon as I've dealt with one more downed tree (and the leafy debris strewn from stem to stern) at the property where all my tenants live, I can relegate Irene to history. For good.


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