Imagine this: An explosion in a molasses factory, sending 2,300,000 gallons of the sticky brown stuff rolling in a wave 25 feet high, at 35 miles per hour down the street, leaving puddles 2 to 3 feet deep in some neighborhoods. This happened in Boston in 1919.

I bring this up to put things in proportion. Those of us who live in the Northeast United States recently dug out from a ferocious snowstorm and were feeling pretty darn sorry for ourselves. Just be glad it wasn't molasses.

And in bridge also, things can always be worse, can't they? At least in bridge, most of us forget what happened soon enough. (Although there are those in Boston who still claim on a hot day they can smell the molasses.)

Our bridge theme today is un-sticking the bidding when it is about to die.