TT: They call it stormy Sunday

I was supposed to fly from St. Louis to New York on Sunday, collect Mrs. T, then proceed on Monday to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Alas, the weather failed to cooperate, and my flight to New York was summarily canceled, forcing me to spend an unscheduled night at an airport hotel, dining on free hot dogs, enjoying Turner Classic Movies and the hot tub, and trying not to think about the next day’s forecast any more than I could help.
Alas, I have no idea where I’ll be by the time you read these words. Should my luck improve significantly, I’ll fly into LaGuardia Airport on Monday morning, take a cab to Kennedy Airport, meet Mrs. T there, and head for Oregon. If not…well, I haven’t a clue. And even if my luck does hold, it means that I’ll be flying halfway across the country in one direction, then turning around and flying all the way across the country in the other direction. The only thing of which I’m sure is that a thoroughly lousy day awaits me.
More as it happens, unless I’m paralyzed by despair and/or exasperation.