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 with eight more inches of rain, and the huge weed tree just 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.”

In fact, branches big enough to knock me out already were crashing into my little backyard. I made a run to the 7-11 when the rain let up a bit, thinking it was the last calm before the storm, and that Hurricane Sandy would cost me more than I can afford, which is nothing.

Last year, when Hurricane Irene hit, I was ready to roll with it. This year is different. Bad weather is much scarier when you’re broke and out of options.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when the let-up persisted and Frankenstorm more-or-less spared Philly. Global warming is here and the weather guys and gals are getting more accurate, but there’s still room for the gods to smile when it comes to specific forecasts.

Too bad they didn’t smile on NYC and the Jersey shore.