Now that hurricane (and later tropical storm) Irene has passed, I think it’s safe to say Chenango County made it through relatively unscathed. Granted, some people lost power (well, maybe more than some), there were plenty of downed trees and we experienced some minor flooding (nothing compared to 2006), but unlike some communities up an down the coast, we made out pretty well. That is, of course, unless you happen to occupy the southeast cubicle here in The Evening Sun’s main office.

Which, I hate to say, is exactly where I used to “hang my hat,” so to speak, five days a week, for the past year-and-a-half-plus.

Even with the windy, rainy and altogether nasty weather, my Sunday was proceeding according to plan, watching movies (“The Beaver,” “The Adjustment Bureau” and “Tron: Legacy”), making dinner (homemade beef stew) and enjoying some down time with the significant other. That was, we had decided, our plan from the get-go, and despite the inclement weather (I swear the rain was coming down horizontally at one point) things were running smoothly. And then, as I should have known would happen, reality intruded. In this instance, an unexpected phone call (isn’t it always) from Evening Sun Sports Editor Pat Newell.

“Hello,” I said suspiciously, not recognizing the phone number that had appeared on my cell’s screen (sorry Pat, haven’t programmed you in yet).