State of Emergency

(I hope Sue doesn't get mad that I've bent the rules a wee tad bit. I wrote this post as soon as I saw her announcement of this new meme and then I liked it sooo much that I just had to post it right away! But I did write it specifically for Very Funny Fridays on Navel Gazing... so that should cover me. I hope.)

Last weekend it got really cold here. Really Cold. For example, it was -5 degrees (yes, that's a minus sign) when we woke up to find (drumroll, please) that our pipes had frozen. Not burst, but frozen. Only a trickle of water came out of the most energetic faucet. J spent several hours crawling around under the house and we eventually got the water back.

But.

And herein lies the tragedy.

The shower has not recovered.

Sounds of weeping and sobs of anguish emerge from the internets to assault your ear.

It's been days since I had a shower. I've been taking regular baths, mind you, but no shower. Now, I don't know how many of you people reading this are moms, but those of you who are can agree with me on the significance of the roaring hot shower with full-on, conservation-be-damned water pressure to one's daily mood and coping abilities. Can I get an Amen? Thank you.

Now just imagine for a moment, if you will (but only a moment, I don't want any of you hyperventilating on my behalf), three days without a shower. Just baths. And I don't mean long luxurious, bubble/salts/fizzy-filled baths with books, poofy towels and soft music. I mean fill-it-up-quick-squat-in-swipe-at-legs-with-razor-(at least the parts that might show)-lather-rinse-repeat kind of bath.

*shudder*

I know. It's baaaad.

And it's made even worse when you consider my history of being raised in the middle of the God-forsaken-boondocks-back-of-nowhere in a house where hot water was a commodity traded amongst five siblings like gold, by parents for whom Water Conservation was second only to the Whole Wheat Flour in sacredity (yes, that's a word). And so baths were not even a fill-up-the-tub affair. We had one of those long rubber hoses that attach to the faucet and water trickles out of the sprayer (hah, that's a joke) thingy at the end. You just squat down in the cold, dry tub and huddle under the thin stream of lukewarm water until you can't take it any longer and call it a day. Hair washing was token, at best. I don't think I shaved past my knees more than once a week. I know, TMI. Sorry.

People of the internets, I tell you truthfully, I did not take a shower in my own house until I married my sweet, sweet J. Truth to tell, I may have married him simply to get my own bathroom with a real, live, showerhead in it. But don't tell him that. He still thinks I married him for his money.

Anyways.

My point is that with a background like that, sending me back to the dark days of no daily shower is like sending a reprieved man back to death row because of a technicality in his appeal (shut up, lawyer people, I know that's not Really Possible, I'm just making a point here). It's cruel and unusual punishment. It's practically water-boarding, only in reverse.

J says we can't afford to call a plumber since he'll probably want to rip out the whole darn thing before he'll even give us an estimate on what it will cost to fix it. I says, perfect time to remodel the bathroom, since we've been planning to do it for-like-ever. J says we don't have the money for that right now. I says, but I'm getting paid for the new semester in three short weeks. J says okay, we'll talk about once we have the money. I says, three weeks without a shower is gonna kill me dead. He laughs, pats me on the back and boots up the laptop.

Can a girl get some sympathy from her internets at least?