A typhoon was coming, and at ten P.M. the news said school would be closed. My sister and I clapped in the living room. (11) The wind began at four in the morning. By seven our sidewalk had turned into a river, and a million leaves lay on it, and the old tree by the gate had lost half its leaves. We could not go out, (12) the power went off at noon. We ate cold rice, drank warm Coke until our stomachs hurt, and told stories in the dark. (13) that day is the one my sister still talks about, more than any trip we have taken. A free day is not the same as a good one, (14) sometimes a bad day makes the better story.
People often laugh when the weather report is wrong. (15) A report for tomorrow is right about nine times in ten; a report for next week is closer to six. The reason is simple to say and hard to live with: small things grow. A change too small to measure this morning can decide whether it rains on Sunday, (16) no machine can measure every corner of the sky. (17), weather experts do not tell us what will happen; they tell us what is likely. A chance of rain of seven in ten does not mean it will rain, (18) that is exactly what most of us hear.