The Wellington Throwing Club's symphonic-dysphoric Lake Harriet Bandshell event has been postponed. The jelly-filled balloons are nowhere to be found. "I know a man who can get us a gross of those fantastic yellow jelly-filled balloons," Pale Tom said, and naturally we believed him. Now we have nothing to throw at the musicians. We don’t even have the beetjuice-soaked sponges anymore, because Rafe lost them in the woods. See? This is the kind of catastrophic cold drama that keeps me awake at night. This, and the cries of the pale asthmatic boy who keeps falling off my outbuildings while retrieving his Frisbee.