Saturday after work I was powerfully thirsty. I came into my house and went straight for the kitchen faucet without much thought but that I wanted a drink of water. "Dum-dee-dum-dum, going to the kitchen, gonna get a glass of water," was about the extent of my train of thought as I approached the sink. "Nothing to see here, dum-dee-dum-dum, just Marty getting water." So imagine my surprise when, upon turning the handle on the cold water, I was met with gurgling and little more.
"This isn't supposed to happen!" I silently exclaimed, panic desperately streaming into my frontal lobes. "Where's the whoosh? Where's the cold H2O? Where's the liquid to quench my thirst? Where's the Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator?"
Sorry. Slipped into a little Marvin the Martian there. But it fit the timing and mood of my rant.
Be all that as it may, it panics you when you don't get the tap water you expect, because you always get the tap water you expect, right?
My intellect, cowering behind my frontal lobes as panic had shoved it frighteningly aside, meekly suggested, "Perhaps you should check if your neighbor has water?" It then cowered a bit lower and winced, as if expecting to be smacked by the back of my hand.
Thinking about the suggestion, I lowered the back of my hand. I went outside and saw that my neighbor was out front with representatives of the water department. They had turned off his - and by his I mean my - water in preparation to do some work in his - and by his I mean his this time - house. They had managed this despite my neighbor rightly asking, "Aren't you turning off Marty's water?" He was assured they knew what they were doing.
I know what I was doing: insisting those erstwhile professionals turn my water back on. But I am glad I caught it when I did. Who knows how long it might have taken to get my water back if they hadn't been made to realize their mistake before leaving?
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