But what was eerie about the collapse wasn’t just the sheer size of the limb. It was the fact that it had looked so sturdy. It snapped out of nowhere on a sunny, windless morning. I thought that tree limbs fell because of storms, or strong winds.

It doesn’t seem to be all that uncommon an occurrence in tree-filled Atlanta. Several neighbors who walked by to observe the carnage said that the same thing had happened to them. They nodded sagely and said that Bradford Pear Trees were usually to blame.

I was impressed by how quickly the City of Atlanta came to saw up and take away the fallen tree. We called them at 8:30 AM, right when they opened for the day, and they arrived within the hour.

After assessing the damage, the foreman of the cutting crew said: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to take down the entire tree.” His tone implied that I would be dismayed by this diagnosis.

After watching the carnage caused by a tree that did not appear to be damaged, or hit by any lightning or other force of nature, I couldn’t wait to see the tree come down. In fact, I wanted to suggest that they take a few others down too, while they were at it, but they seemed ready to move on.

They suggested that I call an “arborist” from the city to check the health and safety of the other trees. I never thought I would use a word like arborist in a sentence, but I guess that’s what living in a tree-filled city for a year will do to you.

The question is — which airline?

Call me a road rule nerd, but I welcome the new law. When I see drivers looking at their phones, rather than the road in front of them, I wonder just how long it will take them to cause a crash. Because really, how can you drive without looking where you’re going?

But maybe that’s because I’ve only lived in places, like London and New York, where driving while texting is illegal. I’ve already overheard conversations between people here lamenting the new law, and wondering if there are ways around it.

Am I the only one who hopes we’ll all be better off because of it?

A few bars here attract crowds on weekends, I have heard. But the masses of diehard hard fans who would go to pubs in London to watch the World Cup during the week, even at unsociable hours, don’t seem to be present here in Atlanta.

Maybe people are recording the matches, and watching them later in the comfort of their own homes. Or maybe they’re content to get live scores from their handheld devices.

But I feel for the bars who decided to open early, and offer breakfast specials to entice the legions of World Cup fans who don’t seem to be here.

I suppose he wanted a break from getting battered on Capitol Hill, and supervising the cleanup of another coast. But surely, someone must have considered the anger that would arise at his admiring a boat race on pristine English waters while Gulf of Mexico tourists will most likely be stuck watching races between tar balls, rather than luxury yachts, for years to come.

After all, oil is still gushing into the Gulf. Shouldn’t the CEO of the company behind the disaster be directing the effort to stop the flow, rather than deflecting tough questions from lawmakers?

As candid and cruel as some of those questions were, I would rather have been in the Capitol Hill hot seat, rather than on board a boat, trying to figure out how to stem the tide of the ecological disaster, if I were BP’s CEO.

At the very least, he did say he was sorry…

What’s alarming is that summer hasn’t officially begun yet. From the unofficial poll I have taken, Atlantans seem to be divided over whether this weather is normal for this time of year: some say it is, and others say that this June is hotter than they can remember.

They all seem to agree that as hot as it is now, August will be even worse.

I felt for her, because she was obviously new to non-American football, and the startling prevalence of draws — especially in this World Cup so far.

I have grown accustomed to tie games, after six years of marriage to an Englishman whose team doesn’t always do what its supporters hope. A draw, after all, is better than a loss — even if the scoreboard reads: “0-0.”

As an American with a British passport, I wasn’t heartbroken with the result — at least nobody lost.

During the ’02 and ’06 World Cups, I was living in London, where you couldn’t avoid getting drawn into the hoopla: there were fans decked out in their country’s kit, screaming newspaper headlines, and constant World Cup chatter everywhere you looked.

Here, I expected football fever to pass the country by. But instead, people seem to suddenly be soccer fans, holding viewing parties, complete with barbecues, to watch the US play England on Saturday.

I hope that the excitement lasts, even if the US team doesn’t.