WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE - DAMMIT

Back in July, the Mistress of Sarcasm was having water trouble. And her parents viewed the proceedings from a distance of 260 miles with complete sympathy. Little did we know that we’d soon be dealing with water trouble of our own...

We denizens of the early 21st century don’t realize just how spoiled we are. We push a button and we have light and entertainment. Turn a knob and have hot food. Open a door and have cold food. Our homes are warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

And if you turn the faucet, water comes out of the tap. Hot water or cold, it’s there at our fingertips.

And, oh, how we take it all for granted.

While I was up in Montréal last week, She Who Must Be Obeyed came home to see a small river of water running down our street. Turns out our sprinkler system blew a valve. And since Mr. Smart-Brains (that’s me) couldn’t locate the cutoff that blocks off the irrigation system from the main water supply because it was conveniently buried under six inches of red clay and pine straw, the only way to stop that river from flowing was to shut the water off at the meter.

That meant no water in the house. And that is no fun at all.

No water on tap. No shower. No flush toilets. (Well, I suppose you could flush each toilet once. It reminded me of the Great New York Water Shortage of the late 1960’s. Remember “Save Water - Shower With A Friend”? And how about “If It’s Yellow, Let It Mellow...”)

And since we were coming into the weekend, getting the sprinkler people out to fix the problem was an exercise in frustration. Which meant that, until Monday, our routine was: turn on water (i.e., go outside, kneel by bush adjacent to driveway, use wrench to turn valve), run in, take shower, flush toilets, fill up pitchers with water, go back outside and shut off water. Repeat as needed. To our delicate 21st century sensibilities, this qualified as a Major Pain in the Ass. The only good thing was that it didn’t rain, so I didn’t have the Mud Factor to deal with. Except for where the leak was. There, if you stepped in the wrong spot, you could lose a shoe.

By Sunday night, She Who Must Be Obeyed had had enough of this crap. Off to spend the night with friends. Meanwhile, I was headed off to Ohio on a business trip, so I had water courtesy of Marriott.

Several hundred dollars later (well, there were a few other things that needed fixin’), we have our water back and no leaks. For now.

To celebrate, I think I’ll have a drink.