And still we continue with no water at our house.
Memories of a tropical vacation are tanned into our skin; they clutter up the table as souvenirs not yet relocated to their new cold-weather housing; they are scattered on the floor of our van, millions of grains of a far away coastline transplanted to Ohio.
The strange reality of frozen pipes and a waterless existence sits at pointy odds with the memories of that Utopian place we were in not that very long ago.
In my last entry I spoke of how we were marching on, faces high, spirits soaring, thanks to the hose connecting us to our neighbor's house and supplying an adequate supply of water for everyday life. There was boiling, but at least there was water. Running water.
Sadly, a new and cruel trick has taken even that little comfort away. The frosty fingers of our house have gotten ahold of not only the hose (which is easily thawed out of her icy clasp), but also all the valves between the two spigots. Our Ice Queen, spreading her Plague to others. Watch out, it's catching. No antibiotic for this one, kids. Sorry.
So now we sit with no water. At all. Think about that for a moment and you'll understand the frustration. No water to cook or clean. No water for washing. A dry tap for showers and tooth brushing. And when "Nature Calls" (and she surely does; especially when she knows you have recently immigrated back to the 18th century), there becomes quite an issue.
Still sitting. Still waiting. (Just not quite so patiently.)
I am told that one day this whole thing will be very funny. That we will get a hearty chuckle out of it as we recall with laughter "That time when we were out of state and our pipes froze, so we had to get water through a hose from the neighbor's, only the hose froze followed quickly by the valves. And then we went 2 full days without a single drop of that molecular miracle in our house".
What a hoot! A real riot!
Yes, one day this will all be funny. It surely has the makings for a doozy of a tale. But not yet. Not nearly yet.
I'm pretty sure all laughter must wait until there are flushing toilets in my house.