Since Saturday morning we’ve been praying to the gods of water and early springtime thaw in the hope that one of them might hear us and grant us a taste of modern civility, in the form of luscious, glittering, watery water flowing from the taps once more.
Considering we’ve had a foot or more of snow on the ground for the last month, finding our pipes frozen was likely to have happened. I probably should have been expecting something regardless since I also managed to get two flat tires on two different occasions just since the new year, which leads me to ask:
For ME?! (presses hands to chest)
Oh, no… (fans hand out as though to say: I simply COULDN’T)
I simply COULDN’T.
It wouldn’t be fair to all the other, less fortunate car tires with fully inflated rubber housing…
It seems only fitting that we should top it off with this now.
I mean, it’s not the WORST thing that could happen with the house. No, because the WORST thing that could happen probably-already happened to us last year. And it’s still nowhere near as bad as that time when we had crickets in our bed. Because I’m still not OK with what happened there…
I’ve been fine with not being able to do the dishes or brush my teeth using running water. I’ve learned to “spot clean” myself with baby wipes and de-crust dirty silverware with the leg of my sweatpants.
It’s been a lot like camping. Only a lot less fun.
I even figured out a way to make coffee!
Collect some snow.
Wait for it to melt.
Because of its “nature-y” ingredients I’ve taken to calling it Winter’s Blend…
But this post isn’t supposed to be about the merits of making snow coffee. It’s about how much it sucks using the toilet when you don’t have any running water.
It’s also been a really long time since we’ve had a proper discussion involving poop on this blog so here you go:
Saturday, 11:30 PM
me: *tummy gurgles* Oh. Um. Yeah...
I think I need to, you know, “go”. Don’t mind me, I’ll be right back…
the bee: Wait. Where are you going?
m: To the BATHroom. I have to “go”. You know, like “go” go.
b: Yeah, I get it but you can’t “go” in there.
m: (squints eyes, furrows brow) Whadaya MEAN I can’t go in there? Where am I supposed to go?!
b: My mom’s house, for one. If you run you could be inside in 10 seconds.
m: Excuse me, but I am NOT going over to your mom’s at midnight just to have to explain the reason for my visit is because I need to “drop something off”. UGGGGH! Embarrassing much?
b: Well, you can’t “go” in our toilet if we can’t flush.
m: (drops to knees and shakes fists) You can take away my toilet, bee… but you can’t take away my priiiiiiiide!!!
b: Oh, please… I’ve known you to use a trash can if you rea-
m: (lightbulb illuminates above head, eyes widen and finger points upward in excited victory)
b: (faces bathroom in disgust and horror)
*shouts* Just make sure you take it out when you’re done! *under breath* …you filthy animal.