The perfect storm will begin late Tuesday afternoon. It will have been predicted perfectly by Ted in Meteorology, a good man, a veteran of the last just war. Ted will give the storm a perfect name, offending no one. Perhaps Heather? Heather will fall as perfectly gently as icing sugar from a sieve, causing no casualties. All Wednesday, cocooning families will play Monopoly perfectly cooperatively, building empires of ecologically-friendly hotels, forcing no one into bankruptcy, leaving no child behind. Thursday morning, on each porch they’ve secretly shovelled, flocks of youth at risk will place a basket of glittery Heather cupcakes.