The weatherhuman is writing from the road, somewhere in the blackness between Vegas and Baker.

It’s going to be a long drive for the ‘human and associates. Three days of blasting the mind with chemicals, natural and otherwise, bring fuzzy logic and dulled conversation.

“Damn, I forgot the liquor bottles.”

“They’re all empty.”

“But I wanted them for souvenirs.”

Monday’s forecast: “But they’re empty.”