Well, here it is Tuesday already. At this rate, the week will be over in a mere 3 or 4 days! THEN where will we be?
The word you’re looking for is “behind“.
But not THAT kind of behind. Let’s try to be mature about this.
The rains came today, causing a collective, though silent, cheer to go up among me and my fellow Dallasites. Like I mentioned in Saturday’s evening post (not THAT Saturday Evening Post), it was as dry as a bone here. The rain was much needed and much appreciated.
Now I’m going to make up some geological facts out of whole cloth to back up my claim that it is quite dry here. You might want to make yourself comfortable and drink a little something that enhances your gullibility. And I discourage you from fact-checking any of this stuff on Wikipedia. Who are you going to believe: me, or some crackpot website that purports to know everything about everything?
Dallas, and indeed, the whole of North Texas, is situated on a slab of black clay (affectionately called “black gumbo”) that is a mile (about 7 meters) thick. Unfortunately, it is not modeling clay, so there’s not much that can be done with it other than making perfect clay casts of your shoes, which can then never be separated from the shoes. In essence, you now have a pair of clay shoes that each weigh about 57 pounds (about 9 firkins). On the plus side, your shoes are preserved for all eternity. On the negative side, they don’t look very nice sitting on your mantle next to your bronzed baby shoes.
But my point is that this mile-thick slab of clay we sit on makes it impossible for rain to soak in. So even if we get 12 inches of rain in a 24 hour period (not out of the realm of possibility), it pretty much just beads up like water on a newly-waxed car, and then runs off down to the Gulf of Mexico with some floozy, leaving us with nothing except whatever we managed to capture in the odd lake or two.
Once the water makes it to the Gulf of Mexico, it sends out the occasional post card, wanders the beach looking for seashells, goes on dolphin watching tours, and develops a taste for pina colodas (made famous by the song of the same name). Eventually it will get caught up in the whole water cycle thing and then return to North Texas in the form of hail, tornadoes, and higher taxes.
So what I’m trying to say here is that it gets a little dry here when it hasn’t rained for more than about a week.
Let’s just say that there’s not a trace of vermouth for a thousand miles. In fact, I think the closest one is in Nebraska. Maybe not even there.