We don't always. We cry a tale of woe if we get Twenty -one. Houses and hillsides are washed away. Shallow crops are lost, or taken in the freezes that come with our storms. A year comes along with Five inches.
Crops whither away.
We ration water. Restaurants won't serve it unless we ask. We are in the Desert. But hey, Over there their breath comes out like puffs from a locomotive. I wouldn't trade.