Monday, September 30, 2013

dear penelope,

Perhaps certain readers of my letters to you would like something more concrete. Youll be happy to know that as this event was unfolding I thought to myself, ah, now finally, something to blog about. Something down from the clouds and onto wet soggy earth. Of course I had a load of wash on the dock, the dishes overflowing and crawling with crumbs and ants in the sink, and there was the lawn, the lawn was so thirsty too- it told me so. And the camellias, those too. So as the 1st load was going, I put out the trashcans, chatted with the neighbor Pat and stretched out the hose, on my way to maybe wash dishes, and diverted to stretch the other hose to the camellias, I gave it a pull, it was stuck, came back to untwine it, and then tracked back and gave it a nice unfurling whip and stretch, and then, you know, that water exploding out of a small valve, whining, weezing, gurgling, pshhhhhhh, and shuddering pipe, water soaking the panes with a thwat thwat thwat and pwat pwat pwat sort of sound- and then it got a little quieter as the water level rose, and kept rising around the break, which I felt what a spectacle I can only wonder if anyone else saw. I rushed to turn off the red valve, and then the yellow valve, but no- it was below those. Soaked and dripping now.  I gingerly run into the house, slipped as I turned to grab the phone and sent it skittering across the kitchen floor along with myself as I was failing the turn off the water and problem solve this as fast as you can game. Mom didn't answer, dad, then suddenly mom answering and I ask, how do you turn off the water it's gushing, where, hold on let me, blah blah, here's your father, blah blah, no, gushing, below, yes, cover plate, near the street, get a wrench... I can't find the flashlight, where's the valve. I don't know. Wait, what do I do? mom in the background, we should just go over there.

And of course having lost the game I stood and pondered the water rocketing forth onto the lawn and creating a river at my feet, rushing past and under the grandmothers clock on the porch and down and out the driveway. I finally found the valve at the street level, and no it wouldn't budge. And then of course finally-- they came, and squishing across the lawn brought tools, my found torch, and absolutely drowned the rusted hinge with wd40- and then more problem solving with counter-levers, and dad grunting and mom fetching giant metal rods finally and 3 different types of wrenches, and we beat it, that sonofabitch. Language dear. Well after the river ran through it. But as with most things, I enjoy watching my parents work together and well. Even if my dad was in socks and my mom had some sad little blue light. They problem solved and pondered and that's them at their best. So despite the fact that I am now grungy, showerless, slack with thirst with no relief in sight, it was a pretty good night. I went on to play gearsofwar3, eat yogurt and watch sleepy hallow.

Sure the government is shut down, and my nails aren't in any kind of shape for a wedding, and I ate too many carbs, but I can say because of that I pretty much loved today. I can't remember what else there was but coffee with matt, and trader joes... and then the water burst forth. Dad said something like, well you broke it. As if my lateral tugging should've done it in and what was it doing being exposed and plastic to begin with anyway?! I'd like to believe I'd used the hose like a safety rope tied to myself and wrapped around the chimney while I was engaged in a daring cat rescue, but nevermind. Tomorrow is another day though. And I can say now I know how to turn off the water... hopefully it'll go a little bit easier than this time.... not sure about the gasline though... that's for the next earthquake.

xo, m.   

1 comment:

pen said...

a delayed: eegads! totally isn't there a very particular tool for this job? madness. i adore the narrative, however.