The weekend was spent doing horrible things.
Dusting. Vacuuming. Scrubbing bathrooms. Laundry.
I usually do a “panic” clean. As in “Oh, no! Someone is coming and I have to CLEAN!”. I think my Mom taught me that method.
How does that get worse?
When you’re finally exhausted and go to wash your hands and there’s no water coming out of the faucet. We have a well, people. No water means no water. More importantly, no bathroom usage. Urgh.
Bang! Worse served up on a silver (possibly tarnished) platter.
Murphy’s Law dictated that this happen since it was a night Tom would be staying at work. He doesn’t stay often – go figure.
I called the emergency number for our “water technology” company (don’t you love that?) and waited…and waited. Then I grabbed the car keys and ran to the store for bottled water.
You know that as soon as you’re told you can’t use the bathroom, you’ve gotta go.
Lugged in all of the gallon jugs, ran to the sink and…
WATER!! Glorious water!
An hour later the repairman called.