On Thursday, some kind of pipe broke across the street. I don’t know what it is, because I am not a Water Professional, and also, because I do not care, at all. But something, a pipe or a main or a tube or something broke and it was shooting up a foot or two of water, which was then was running down the street. “Huh.” I thought, and that was the end of that. A few hours later I noticed it was still spraying and I decided that I guess I’m the adult or whatever and called the water company and talked to a very confused representative. Several hours later, the parade started. 4 separate water trucks came by in 4 separate trips and checked out the situation using only their eyes, and then got back in their trucks and drove elsewhere.
It was puzzling. I mean, I as a layperson with no Water Experience, would think that surely an early goal would be to turn off some water source instead of letting it flood the street for an entire day. I imagine the orders came down something like, “Jones!” the water chief calls, “Go down to sector 10 and stand in the driveway for 5 minutes or so. Maybe make a couple calls! Then, get back in the truck and drive away. McGillicutty, Barton, other Jones! Double check his work. You boys drive over and take a look at the leak as well. Take the big vans with all the tools, so you’ll look more official. But ON NO ACCOUNTS SHOULD YOU TOUCH THAT WATER SUPPLY.”
The 4th guy painted some lines. So that helped a lot, because now I could see what area the water was spraying into the air from. Before, I had been so confused. Now I knew it was right there where the geyser was. After a while, a couple of guys came and removed the light pole from the grass near the leak, and then they took a 4 hour break and did all the hammering and cussing at 9 pm, because that was the most convenient time for everyone, I think.
Somewhere around that time, we noticed that, although the geyser was holding steady, the water in our house was disconnected. This was concerning, because we were leaving for a trip in the morning and I had waited until the last minute to pack or do the dishes. We called and the representative, a different representative, was also very confused. “I don’t see an order here,” she worried. We assured her that our water, in fact, did not work. They promised to send someone out in the morning.
In the morning, though, we were gone on our trip to Illinois, unshowered and hauling duffel bags with questionable-smelling clothes in them. We did the weekend of ministry and then drove home, anticipating being able to flush the toilets and wash the dishes, but it was not meant to be. “Sorry we missed you!” the door hanger said, because, although it is traditional to disconnect water without contact, milk and cookies must be provided for the re-connection. Quality Time, they call it. We called and they said it was disconnected for non-payment, which would have been humorous if our house smelled less like Mexico. The MOG tried to convince them otherwise, but they were just like, “Hey, dude, you have to talk to Billing,” and so he did at 7:59:59 AM, and then we were right about everything. Also we were ripe.
Today. Today at noon they relented and gave us back our water. Across the street, there is a monstrous hole in the sidewalk with 4 traffic cones surrounding it, just to clear up where the hole stops and starts, I guess. I haven’t seen Jones or McGillicutty, though. I don’t even care, because see where caring got me last time? I’ll just keep my mouth shut and flush the toilets as many times as I want, just recklessly. Carpe Diem, they say.