The other day, Husband and I returned from our daily walk. We were cold, wet and covered in mud and . . . there was no water. It wasn’t a broken water pump or a dead pigeon blocking the pipe: our tank was OUT OF WATER.
Running out of water in the Waitakeres is something akin to running out of sand in the desert or porn on the Internet or bacteria in a chippie. In other words: so improbable as to be statistically impossible.
“But didn’t you check the water level when you cleaned the filter?” I wailed, desperately – yet cunningly. This was a fell blow on two counts: not only administering a verbal Chinese burn for being out of water, but also suggestive that Husband was not cleaning the filter on a monthly basis.
Which he wasn’t.
Hey, it’s not MY job. Husband and I have clearly delineated duties. I am responsible for cooking, grocery shopping, book-keeping, timely coffee supply, phoning, dog maintenance, dishwashing, mopping, dusting, laundry including ironing and clothespegs, picture framing and Christmas/birthday cards. When I say Husband is responsible for everything else, well. Not to be dismissive, but there’s not much left: car and bike maintenance, laptop support, general DIY, any soldering and/or welding, garbage relocation, fencing, water blasting, and monthly cleaning of the goddamn water filter.
When we first moved into the house, the tank was sourced by the creek. However, several sources – some of them reliable – had it that possum piss is hazardous to human health, so Husband rerouted runoff from the roof. Cursory investigation revealed the inlet pipe to the tank had come away from the gutters.
I didn’t want to order a tank of water, because – quite apart from the cost – it would undoubtedly spark a rainstorm that would rage for months, causing rivers to burst their banks, driving innocent Aucklanders from their homes and flooding farms. That’s what happened shortly after moving into the house, when after weeks of drought, we ordered a tank of water. Whereupon it rained solidly for the next three days.
So Husband reaffixed the inlet pipe, in addition to collecting water from the creek. For days, I have boiled water to wash dishes, instead of wasting water by running the hot tap; I did not run the shower before getting in (chilly); I have brushed my teeth in half a cup of water; laundry has piled up in the garage.
But today Husband was out water blasting the MR2, so I guess our crisis is over.
Either that, or it was an emergency