The Great Drought

This world is a place of survival of the fittest. Or, in my case, survival of the person with the most bottled water and large soup pans. Yesterday afternoon, a water pipe cracked down in town and all running water ceased. We’re not entirely sure when it happened, because we only noticed when I turned the shower on and bugger all happened. Thus began my first apocalyptic adventure outside of the confines of a city.

4pm – An hour before our friends arrived to take us out for dinner, I wandered into the bathroom to get ready. I had, unwisely, delayed my shower so as to be fresh as a daisy for the occasion. It was not to be; instead, I was forced to wash and condition my hair and scrub myself down with the contents of 6 small bottles of water.

10pm – We returned home to a barren wasteland. A toilet that couldn’t be flushed, a toothbrush that must be used dry, pets’ water bowls that were getting rather low. The news was bleak: they were expecting repairs to take a full 48 hours.

11am this morning – Fortunately, Hubby’s parents are dab hands at getting through such situations and most generous in sharing their expertise with a useless daughter-in-law. I’d spent most of the morning melting snow in a pan over the hob, trying to fill the toilet tank , when father-in-law appeared with a huge barrel of water for exactly that purpose, two big bottles of water for cooking, teeth cleanings and other such necessities and a large pack of bottles for the drinking of. It was a relief to stop having to melt jugs of snow, the last batch having defrosted to reveal a tiny, solid lump of dog poo.

2pm – Hourly check of the taps rewarded us with a slow, plaintive trickle. It took a while, but I did everything I could think of involving water, just in case it disappeared again. I filled water bowls, washed up the ever-increasing pile of plates, filled a pan of water for dinnertime cooking and went about  my business.

5pm – The trickle had once again become a proper flow, albeit a little less enthusiastic than usual. I was even able to have a quick shower, so I no longer smell like I’ve gone off. All is once again well.

I’ve been through a few hours of water outages many times, but it’s not quite the same in the city (it was only ever a particular area that went without, and one’s social circle tends to be spread out. If I couldn’t shower before I left the house, I could always pop in to a friend’s place, or wait till I got to work and use the shower there). I vaguely remember quite a serious one when I was little, but all I really recall is sipping on a juice carton while feeling smug that nobody could make me have a bath that night.

I think I did quite well today, under the circumstances. Not that I can take much credit for it, to be completely honest; my contribution was limited to half a tank of toilet water and a small piece of dog poo.


2 responses to “The Great Drought

  • watch*paint*dry

    I was screaming ‘Nooo, watch out for dog/raccoon/deer/bear poo!’ when I read the snow boiling experiment. And it turns out I was right. Now that begs the question: Why did I suspect this? Or: Why is that my first thought? I have no deja vu of this. Simple answer: Sh*t for brains!
    And leads me to ask, where is the dog poo now?

  • Amy Daynes

    This blog post (which is excellent, by the way) led me to dream last night that I was sucking ice-frozen poop. It was all a ploy by an evil wizard, who disguised his cat to look like mine and trick me into following him along a path of trickery and deceit.

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