Endless consternation.

The coconuts are growing on the palm trees right outside my window. And it is virtually guaranteed that the building association will either not cut them down before the next hurricane, or will wait painfully close to the approach of Hurricane Yamazuki or whichever storm is up next to pummel the Gables.

And now we wait. And with each passing day, the furrows in my brow will crease ever so slightly deeper, as I watch the future-projectiles gain girth and weight.

And it causes me endless consternation.