Apparently the water gods are aware that I am a transplanted New Englander. While the good folks of Massachusetts and New Hampshire are floating away on thriftily devised rafts of submerged car seats, I want them to understand that I have personally been siphoning my own allotment of water from the storms.

In the course of a week, we have battled water thrice. The first arrived in the form of a persistent leak through our bedroom window and onto Rudi. He did not care for this brand of Chinese water torture, and our handyman has patched the problem.

The latter two leaks seem to have come in the form of a bad water heater (which lies perilously close to our subterranean Burrow) that has, thus far, left the laundry room soaked but our own apartment untouched. My hopes remain that the water is not planning on a sneak attack in the form of mold in the walls later this summer. If you can spare dry thoughts from the Northeasterners, please send me one or two small ones…