I was having a perfectly lovely Tuesday afternoon (no pun intended, Justin Hayward), when somewhere around four o’clock, I decided I needed to brush my teeth, only to discover that we had no water. My husband, who works nights, got up and tore off to the water company to pay the forgotten bill, only to find it closed and he had to put the payment in the payment box outside. We were left with no water for the rest of the day.
Having no water makes you thirsty. It makes you crave a shower, or do a load of dishes in the dishwasher, or a couple loads of wash, all of which I had planned for the day. Thankfully, we had over two cases of bottled water, a leftover habit of living in South Florida during hurricane season. I also had just gone food shopping and stocked up on Vitamin Water for the gym and iced tea to keep my son from drinking soda all day. So the dog and cats got bottled water in their bowls tonight and we are limited on how much ice we use in our drinks, since it comes through the water line in the refrigerator. My best friend offered the use of her shower in the morning, but we’ll get by if the water is turned back on before my husband has to work tomorrow night. I’ll shower at the gym. My son won’t be heartbroken if he can’t shower for two days.
But the lack of water seems to have caused a ripple in our family. After a fun dinner, when we played the game, ‘What’s the worst patient you’ve ever seen?’ which my son made up a year or so ago. He gives us an emergency—say, a burn, or the first time we saw brains, and my husband and I think about our careers and come up with the grossest answer we can. I was a trauma nurse, and then a Flight nurse, so I have a little advantage over my husband, who’s a respiratory therapist. At some point after dinner, my son’s XBox 360 got knocked over and now doesn’t work. My son blames my husband; my husband blames my son. I’m in the middle, listening to my son crying and yelling at the same time, and my husband yelling at me about the whole thing. I wasn’t anywhere near it. I know nothing about XBox 360s, except how much they cost and how much the controllers and games cost. They both play with it, along with a PlayStation 2. I wish they were never brought into the house. It’s like having two boys, instead of a husband and son. Who’s playing what the longest? Who left the disc out? Who left his memory card in? I don’t even know what these things are, yet they always come to me—and not at all calmly—to complain about the other. I tell them, every time, to work it out between themselves. I don’t want anything to do with it. I have enough problems. I have a laptop with Windows Vista. Now there’s a problem. Write an entire essay and poof! It’s gone. Answer an email and poof! It’s gone too! Now THAT’S a legitimate problem.
So I’m sitting here, in my bedroom, while the boys watch Valkyrie on PPV. I won’t watch it. I’m one of the few women in the world who doesn’t think Tom Cruise is either handsome or charming. The same with Brad Pitt. I liked him until he cheated on Jennifer Aniston, but in retrospect, I think Jen is doing better than Brad. So the boys can watch any Brad Pitt movie they want. I’d rather watch the Home Shopping Network. And I’m thirsty and my ice is melting in my iced tea. Oh, the problems we have in life. And to think there are people in the Middle East with no food, water, OR shelter. Makes you wonder why we get so bent out of shape over the smallest things.