Moving Part 2: What Happened When Things Got Worse

Quoting It Only Gets Better from Here: “The good news is that my furniture is coming. The plumber is coming. Summer is coming. It can only get better from here.”

The move with the moving company was unusually frustrating, but we survived it. In fact, the day after our furniture arrived we woke in slightly improved conditions having spent the night on a real mattress, even if it was lying on the floor.

We were also in good spirits, because this was the day the plumber was coming. I made coffee and brushed my teeth, happy in the knowledge that I would have filtered, hot water for drinking, bathing and laundering by the end of the day. I had waited patiently for four days. At last, a hot shower. Sigh.

Around 5:30 a.m., the well pump stopped running. I was concerned, but remained optimistic. Certainly it was something simple like a tripped breaker. Once it was a reasonable hour of the morning, I called our neighbor who was kind enough to give me the name of the man who installed his pump. I left a message for him.

Understanding Theoretical Plumbing

The first blow of the day came when the plumber arrived and informed me that he couldn’t finish what he had come to do, unless we had running water.

Our plumber is brilliant at what he does, and it turns out he’s also very good at explaining things to plumbing numbskulls like me.  He carefully outlined the site of future plumbing in the air, so I could imagine where the pipes would be one day. Then he described the sequence in which all of this must happen. The bottom line was that water had to be running so he could test his work once it was installed. I nodded my understanding.  

Everything he said made perfect sense, but there was one part of the problem that had not yet been discussed. So when he paused, awaiting further acknowledgement that I comprehended the dilemma, I said simply, “I haven’t had a shower in three days.” He nodded in understanding.

We nodded at each other. With both of us fully informed of the full range of important plumbing issues that could not be addressed that day, the plumber departed wishing me well. There would be no hot shower on that day. I was numb with shock.

Digging Deep

The second blow of the day came when the pump contractor arrived in the late afternoon, ran some tests, declared the pump dead, and said he would be back with a replacement pump sometime the next day. There would be no water – period – on that day.

Thinking about even one more day of bathing from a sink in a freezing cold room was making me irrational. I was also faced with the problem of how to clean the house as to be suitable for occupancy, wash the dishes, brush my teeth and most importantly flush the toilets. I wanted to cry, but there wasn’t much satisfaction in the exercise.

I had read a sign recently that said, “Attitude is Important. Pick a Good One.” I believe in having a positive attitude. I wanted to be that irrepressible optimist making lemonade out of lemons. I wasn’t feeling it. Whenever I tried to think, "It will be like camping. Camping is fun.”  I kept thinking “Camping is not fun. I like cabins with indoor plumbing and hot water.” Grumble, grumble, grumble. . .

I tried remembering that there are people in the world, in this country even, who have no clean, running water and no means of affording the luxury. The fact that other people have it worse isn’t the kind of thing that makes me feel better. I just felt bad for them too.

I tried to console myself that I only had to wait another day, but a voice in my head kept reminding me that it was supposed to have been done last Thursday, and then on Wednesday, and now on this Thursday. I was getting in touch with my inner-whiner and could only manage to be mildly annoyed with myself.

I tried to rally by showing some grit. People don’t often appreciate how much determination it takes to be a diva, though it’s actually the stock-in-trade.  So, I rationed the bottled water for washing dishes, and recycled the grey water into the toilet tanks for flushing. Between the morning and the afternoon dishes, I got a half of a tank of toilet water. It was supposed to rain, so I set tubs outside to catch some water. (I had reason to be obsessed with filling the toilet tank.) I even made the very practical decision not to waste a five gallons of gas driving across town to my old house to take a shower. I just needed to get through this day and these little feats of common sense began to buoy my can-do attitude.

On the Ropes

Then the third blow of the day came. The pump contractor called back to say he wouldn’t be able to come until Friday. What little optimism I had regained was drained away in an instant. I was wretched, again. I couldn’t think of anything except how I felt sticky and cold and helpless.

At long last, I couldn’t stand myself, and decided I would make the best beta bath that ever was as consolation. If I didn’t warm up, I would at least get clean. Also, I would have more grey water to use in the toilet. Closing myself up in the smallest bathroom with a half- gallon of boiling water actually did help raise the temperature of the bathroom and raise my spirits, especially when I finished it off by soaking my tired, frozen feet in the warm water at the end.

It was shortly after this that Salt, my boyfriend, arrived home and wondered why the house was freezing cold. You may recall from my previous entry, that my fear of the electric bill had kept me from setting the thermostats above 50 degrees. I’m one of those people who is always cold, year round, so it was nice to know that I’m not imagining it for once. 

Salt took me out to a nice, warm restaurant and listened while I tried not to gripe about not being able to bathe, although that is the only thing I could manage to talk about. He didn’t even look exasperated when he finally gave me a pep talk. It went something like, “It isn’t a good idea to make yourself miserable by not turning on the heater.” That may seem like a non sequitur proclamation, but it actually follows that I may not have been able to do anything about the water, but I could control the fact that it was freezing. To his credit, Salt knows how to put an end to the drama, which is how he can stand living with me. His words reminded me that there is such a thing as too much grit.

When we got home, I turned the heat up to 60 degrees.

Things Really Do Get Better

The next morning, I woke up in my “perfect bed,” which was not on the floor anymore and had my requisite feather top and clean linens. The room was not freezing, because the heater works when it’s turned on. I cleaned up without complaining, though I still wanted a shower.

When the sun had risen I opened the front door to let the light warm the living room and waited for the satellite and DSL contractors. Anyone who has waited for the television and internet to be hooked up knows that it isn’t an occasion to be optimistic. The fact that I received automated phone calls delaying their appointments every hour for three hours was not promising, but when they did arrive a miracle happened. The pump contractor called to say that some poor person had to have acid sit in their well overnight before he could get the pump out, so he had time to replace mine. I don’t think that God gave someone a crummier well problem just to move me to the top of the list, but it was like a miracle to me.

So often during this move it seems like we take two steps forward and one step back. This turned out to be a two steps forward day. The satellite and DSL installation went fine. The pump contractor showed up early. At the end of the day, I found out that the plumber had in fact hooked up the hot water heater before he left, so it was even possible to shower that evening.

The furniture came. The water is running. The heater is on. The plumber is coming...someday. It can only get better from here.