I’ve been arranging the new room, making this lovely new hellhole into my hellhole, and recuperating from yesterday’s hard work of moving which gave me this morning’s bad back.

With no paid work and no major tasks, it’s the first day I’ve had to myself in a while, and I wasn’t even planning to get dressed. For reasons unknown, though, no water comes out of my faucet, or the sink in the john. No flushing. No showers.

Thirsty, I’ve been coughing almost as loud as the TV in the next room, so I put on pants and went downstairs to holler at Mr Patel, who of course wasn’t there. The office was locked, but I’d come prepared like a Boy Scout, so I wrote “Water?” on an index card and gluestuck it to the office door.

Then I went to the grocery across the street to buy some damned water. When I came back with two gallons, Mr Patel was back, and he said the water is disconnected “for a couple of hours” due to construction outside.

Which I’d mostly guessed: To get to the store and back, I’d had to detour around some orange-vested Super Mario types working on the pipes under the street.

But — for a couple of hours? My ass. The water was off when I woke up at about 10:00 this morning, and now it’s 3:30. And also, isn’t there supposed to be advance notice when the water’s going dry?

The hotel’s unflushable toilets smell like outhouses, and I ain’t gonna endure that stink for however long it takes to do what I gotta do. Instead I squatted over my trash can, then emptied it into the cans in the back.

♦ ♦ ♦

You don’t think about water until there’s none. In America, you turn a faucet and there’s water. Turn the other faucet and it’s hot water. It’s kind of amazing, actually, until you turn the faucet and there’s not even a drip.

Pathetic Life
← PREVIOUS          NEXT →

itsdougholland.com
← PREVIOUS          NEXT →