Our house has no water.
Well, that's not entirely true. We have water - courtesy of the hose from our neighbor's house set up by the water department. An umbilical cord of sustenance, linking us across the bridge of a cement driveway. (Aren't metaphors fun?)
The beginning of this sordid tale of Water Woe dates back to over a week ago. We were on vacation. In Florida. (Where there was no snow or sub-zero temperatures, incidentally). In some strange mismatch of realities, I got a call letting me know that our little red house in Ohio suddenly had no water. Poof. Just like that.
Let me tell you, nothing is quite so much fun as being 1,200 miles from home (in a sunny utopia) and finding out that your house sits frigid; the captive of a malicious Ice Queen. Frozen.
The flurry of frantic calls to various "rescuers" that ensued did little to perk our spirits, nor did it entice us to hasten our return back to this Arctic plain of frozen frustration. But here I now sit, in a house still waiting for The Great Thaw, apparently.
Not to sound ungrateful, but can I just put it on record that I'm tired of this? Never before did I realize how utterly (and Everyday-Life-Depends-On-It) important a tap streaming with clean water really is. Never before have I so hated a single piece of ice, such as the one lodged somewhere in our service line and wreaking sheer havoc and upheaval on our daily lives.
It's been a week in this new reality of ours. Everyday has been brought to us by the word "Boil"; as in, "Boil water before drinking", "Boil water before washing dishes", "Boil water before rinsing the produce", and "Boil water used for brushing your teeth." Boil. Boil. Boil. My stock pots have never worked so hard in all their stainless steel lives.
Probably I could have more of an adventurous spirit about this if it were the absolute only predicament in which we found ourselves. However, we are also dealing with the unnerving issue of a dishwasher that had been incorrectly installed (and year ago), and consequently broken (a year ago); and which has been leaking every single cycle ever since. For a year. It seeped under the kitchen floor, hiding the damage being done, until finally it started buckling the floor completely. Ruining it. The repairman who diagnosed the whole thing told us not to touch the dishwasher. Or use it. At all. It's been disloyal.
Naturally the installation company is insured to cover the damages and replacement costs.
And naturally we can't seem to get in contact with them.
Perhaps it could also be said that everyday is brought to us by the word "Wait". As in, "Wait for the frost line to lessen", "Wait for the grip of winter to release its hold on us", "Wait for the stupid (possibly finger-nail width) piece of ice to finally melt", "Wait for the dishwasher/kitchen floor issue to be resolved". Just, wait.
Most of the time I want to blow a gasket in frustration of all this stupid waiting. But maybe there is a lesson for me to learn as well. There is a lot of good to be had from Just Waiting, after all. I mean, look at the new found appreciation I'll have for modern conveniences like, oh say, clean running water? Hot water on demand? A spiffy machine that cleans your dishes while you go tra-la-ing about? A kitchen floor that doesn't make you trip as you make your way over its up heaved surface? Shiny stock pots, all hung up on pegs and not gurgling away non stop on the stove?
A whole new appreciation for things erstwhile very much taken for granted and UN-appreciated.