We don't have running water at our house right now.
Yes, you can picture a counter full of dirty dishes, clean paper plates, cups, and plastic cutlery stacked on the counter next to them, collapsible jugs by each sink, toilets that require me to lift and tilt a forty pound jug of water to fill the tank after I use it. No laundry. No showers. No watering plants.
Mike took us to the YMCA yesterday as guests so we could shower. That seems like days ago. Last night, he drove the car to a friend's house to fill up six five-gallon jugs with water from a spigot. He'll go again tomorrow if the guy who installed the new water pump in the community well can't get the thing running again soon.
I'm sticky from the sunscreen we needed at The MidSummer Renaissance Faire in Bonney Lake today. I almost didn't want to go once I realized I would have to sleep in my sunscreen tonight and go to work tomorrow with it still tacky on the back of my neck even after I tried to sponge it off. I hate being sticky from sunscreen and sweat. My hair looks ... well, my hair looks like crap.
Ah, never mind my hair. It looks like crap most of the time anyway. Hell, it looks like crap all of the time. But at least it usually feels clean.
I feel like crap. I look like crap. My hair itches. I want my running water back.
There is some irony in the fact that we went to the renaissance faire today. The renaissance was a time when running water ran through creeks and rivers, when maybe once a week, people heated water for the tub and reused it until the last family member was clean, when a bowl was filled for your daily ablutions, when you peed in a chamber pot in the middle of the night and shared a pit toilet during the day. Think about the three-holed outhouse. Just think about that.
I don't want to live back in renaissance times, not even if I could be royalty. I don't want to have to wear corsets, layers of petticoats, and woolen underwear. I want running water, flushing toilets, sunscreen, and yes, I want my daily shower.
And one more thing: I think turkey legs have too many tendons running through them. Can't somebody do something about the tendons? But I do love the meat pies, the shops, and the shows.
Thank you for listening, jules