That's not, "We have still water." What a lovely, peaceful thought. Kind of a trickling, rippling creek, with still, deep blue pools... no, that's not us. That's: We still do NOT have water. As in, water is not coming to our house, going into week 4.
Nearly a month ago, you see, we (all of northern NM) lost our natural gas feed coming out of west Texas. After 5 days without heat, relying only on small electric space heaters, it was inviteable that in 20 below zero temperatures, we were bound to break a pipe or two. Well, we did, and since then, we haven't had any water.
You see, I now speak my "I've about had it" voice nearly all the time. I have officially become Miss Cranky Pants.
Saturday was supposed to be a wonderfully productive day, doing some laundry (at my in-laws), doing some dishes (at my in laws), having a good soak and shaving my legs (at my in laws), and maybe doing some hooking on the 14 different WIPs I have going (in MY crafty, peaceful, full-of-finnish-stuff, room)
Instead, I sat in coveralls and boots, and supervised my dear darling husband auger holes into the earth from high atop the old Ford tractor, making sure he didn't drill into the 40 year old Colorado Blue Spruce tree, making sure he didn't drill into the old "already-falling-apart-why-do-we-keep this" fence.
Everything was going just fine until my sweet, 81 year old father-in-law came rushing out of the house to exclaim that the power surged, blew out a few lightbulbs, and now there was no power.
Certainly that all had nothing to do with us. The water line (that we had spent half the day digging to find) couldn't possibly be buried along with the electricity line. No, of course not. Well, it sure was. The guys from the Electric Co-op came out and found the broken line, but they didn't find the rest of our pipe.
So, anyway, that was my weekend. The whole thing kind of summarizes the last couple of months, really. Between illness (physical and mental, I swear) finances, and boxes and messes everywhere, I'm done.
This piece really speaks not to me and some unspoken desire to run away from all of this, but the fact that I've come through the wilderness and am ready to come into the light... there but for the Grace of God go I.
See ya round the (happier days to come) corner,