Dog and I watched the sideways rain blast by until it was time to sit in the dark on the cold tile floor of the downstairs half-bath and wait for the roof to fly off. It didn’t.

And the door jam broke my toe, which is now taped to the one next to it.

But tonight, in a moment of inspiration I poured peach schnapps into a glass of strawberry lemonade. Nectar of the gods — that’s what I’m calling it. Its actual name is diabetes.

Summer, week one, composed by Chopin.

<insert melodramatic wrist to forehead>

Prelude in e minor, op. 28, no. 4