It was a nice surprise to hear from you. You told me you didn't think you'd have online access while away, so your post this morning may have been a happy accident of string, tin cans and what not. If so, this is probably falling on deaf cyberears, but I have a small request for you if you can hear me:
Get your ass back to New York immediately. You're killin' us here.
I mean it. Turn the truck around. Never mind the Portland Sea Dogs. Whatever they've got up there, we can match it. Poland Spring is readily available and I could probably arrange to have a black bear wander by if you still a need a taste of Maine.
You left in May and the Mets lost every game in your absence. They lost last night. Your job as a Mets fan and the non-jinxy half of Metsdom's most vigilant blog (one hundred consecutive days of posting as of today) is to, at the very least, cross the New York state line by Saturday at 7:05 PM and stay on this side of it until whenever Sunday's game ends. Then you can go back and drink water and look at bears or whatever the hell it is they do in Maine.
The family will understand. If they've understood you this long, they'll understand this.