Water, Prayer and the Northern State

Ride back from Brooklyn in the teeming rain today. Maneuvered the Jackie Robinson like a nascar pro, and then came the Northern State. Lots of flooding with me going slow and praying to god so as to prevent hydroplaning, skidding, and loss of brakes. It seems the only time I pray lately is when I'm on the Northern State. It's a simple prayer really, "Please god, don't let me die now." This is funny, as at other times there is this prayer going on in the back of my head that roughly translates to "kill me now." I have had conversations with the powers that be, in my saner moments, to completely ignore any requests from me for instant death.
Got home and found approx. 4 inches of water in my basement, with empty laundry baskets floating and Audrey the cat piteously meowing because her food, water, and litter were unreachable unless she chose to swim to them. Calls to landlord have gone unreturned and as there is nothing else I can (or will) do about the flood I am writing and having a snack (although my body still seems to revolt everytime I put food in it). Figure it will be a long time before flood waters reach the first floor.

Water

by Philip Larkin

If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.

Going to church
Would entail a fording
To dry, different clothes;

My liturgy would employ
Images of sousing,
A furious devout drench,

And I should raise in the east
A glass of water
Where any-angled light
Would congregate endlessly.