Disaster Averted

This has been a week of close calls.  We have been on storm watch as Hurricane Sandy hurled her whims in our direction.  We executed the emergency drills, stowing the deck furniture, pruning loose limbs, evacuating the autumn leaves from the gutters and filling the cars with gasoline.  Over the weekend we stocked up on canned goods and bottled water and withdrew a reserve amount of cash from the ATM.  We kept cell phones and laptops fully charged.   I even posted several days of blogs on timed release in case I could not get network access.  On our kitchen counter, we lined up an array of emergency candles, flashlights, and batteries.

Waiting for hurricanes is a bit surreal.  The predictive computer models are so sophisticated that they are able to forecast almost a week in advance the precise trajectory of the storm to within miles and minutes.  We brace for the surge of the storm even while the air is still and the sun is shining.  Its arrival is certain; only the scope and scale of the devastation in unknown. 

Many survivors describe disasters and accidents as seeming to have happened in slow motion.  This is what it is like waiting for a hurricane to hit.  We watch while the storm intensifies, moving as slow as 10 or 15 miles per hour toward us.  It is remarkable that anyone is caught off guard, as hurricanes are very good at announcing their arrival and their intentions.  Sandy was predicted to unite promiscuously with a Nor’easter, and then quicken by the force of a full moon.  She was as good as her word, hitting the Jersey shore on target, and then fanning out across 1000 miles of Atlantic coastline.

It was impressive to watch.  Satellite photos looked like a CGI-enhanced, apocalyptic Hollywood disaster film.  The Weather-Channel reporters looked as imperiled as Jack-Ass characters.  And from my living room, I watched as dark-clouds moved uncharacteristically from the east, bringing with them the wind gusts of witches’ spells and heavenly plagues.  Happily, my husband came home before dark.  Together we waited for broken trees, power failures, and flooding.

Today we have a bit of survivor’s guilt, watching in horror as news outlets replay horrific scenes of fires in Queens and Stephen King-inspired flooding of elevator shafts.   I have heard from cousins who watched fearfully as nearby rivers crested, the waters creeping toward their home like Birnham Wood approaching Dunsinane.  Other friends spent days without power, then offered shelter to those in need.    Many are affected by the loss of NY subway service, trying to adjust to the inconvenient truth of a new normal.   Others we do not know will be starting their lives from scratch after the loss of homes and commercial boats.

So today, I thought it was my due when my laptop was suddenly besieged by an ominous message box from Microsoft Security Essentials declaring my computer infected by a deadly virus, urging me to immediately initiate a scan. 

“Not again,” I groaned.  Since commissioning this laptop at the beginning of the year, I have twice been forced to restore it to factory settings.  Despite an army of anti-virus products, I continue to be vulnerable to attack.  This time, however, I took a deep breath.  Without pressing a single key, I stared at the screen.  That’s when I saw it:  a revealing typo.  I read the official looking “Microsoft” message out loud to myself, detecting in it a hint of inappropriate definite articles and other artifacts of broken English.  Checking the URL for authenticity, I determined this was fraudulent and immediately shut my browser.   I pulled up the “real” MSE and ran a Quick Check.  My computer was in perfect health.  Just for good measure, I ran the long scan and made it through hundreds of thousands of files without a hitch.

I am not a person who usually finds luck; I have learned to work hard to make my own.  It is with humility that I count my blessings, conscious of those who are suffering this week.  On the other hand, maybe I’ll by a lottery ticket.