"Conscience is the inner voice that warns us somebody may be looking."
H. L. Mencken

Another day of lousy coffee.

Things are getting nasty in the bunker. This water situation is getting worse before it gets any better. I'm led to believe that it will take several clear days before this interminable water advisory will be lifted. Looking at the weather on the magic box, I'm seeing that there is nothing but rain for the foreseeable future.

This bad news is making my already irritable, unstable mood even more agitated. Without the bare necessities of life, your faithful (well, technically sporadic) correspondent is being left with very little recourse, than an all out temper tantrum.

As I peer out the windows at the clouds, somewhere above the din of the city a little tiny voice can be heard from my window "curse you, rain fairies" as a little tiny fist waves out my window.