One summer, I was in the middle of a disaster. There was disaster recovery going on all over the place. (It's true.) But there was no disaster recovery in Denver. Not that summer, anyway. Maybe there will be a disaster in Denver one day. Then they will have disaster recovery there. But that won't be the summer of 1993. That was the year of the flood.
I don't remember when it started, exactly. It just did. It rained a lot that summer, almost every day. I remember playing a lot of Monopoly with my brothers that summer. I lost a lot. But that wasn't actually my fault. My sweet, kind older brothers cheated. A lot. One was the banker, and he “didn't do math well”. Like I believe that. These are the same brothers that knowingly fed me straight Tabasco Sauce (I didn't know what it was). But the Tabasco incident came later. First came the flood with its disaster recovery.
Like I said, there was a lot of rain. A lot of water. My gravel driveway became a pool of jello. If you threw a rock into it, it created waves. I'm not kidding. Dams were breaking everywhere. The high school became an evacuation center. It was a crazy summer. But the disaster recovery worked, and now we all live, happily ever after. Or close.
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