Report 2 from the maw of the snowurricane.
We run low on food....low on water...we can communicate now only with grunts and groans through parched lips and swollen tongues. When will help come? Before the battery of our iPhone died, we managed to spend a last plea for help to the Fusconnors.
When will they come? Dios mio! When will they come?
At least we still have our parking spot...
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