Flood

Not just a They Might Be Giants record anymore, nope, our neighbors down mountain are bailing out. The unseasonably warm climes that cause our copious amounts of snow to melt mix with rain, and bang-o we get ourselves a flood. Don't even think about flushing your commode (all folks living outside the mountain top withstanding), as Parsons is at the tipping point already.

Coupled with the natural disaster is the fact that, homeless, hungry, cold, and fore lorn, the only thing you can drink in the morning will be the tears you collect tonight. The HypnoVessel will be moth-balled, and I will be north-bound with the mission of retrieving a new oven for the HypnoAbode. By the time our landscape is covered in white and the waters have receded (or Thursday), I will hoist sails and bring you the liquid heaven you've come to expect. Fair-thee-well my friends.