We are still dry...
dry like the desert...
dry like wit...
dry like my tongue at Happy Hour....
OK, I lie.
We did get a dribble,
a droplet,
a smattering of wet stuff,
from Don...
Not enough, mind you, to register in a rain gauge...
but I swear I heard the patter of drizzle for a minute on the roof.
The only dryness I like comes in a glass with gin.
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