Sounds like an old-timer remembering the “good ole days,” huh? No. On Saturday morning, our main sewer became too clogged. Water leaked from the bottom of our basement toilet. We had to shut the main supply valve. Unfortunately we thought it was the toilet and not the main, so we had a friend of ours come by that evening – had we thought it was the sewer, we’d have called our regular sewer main guy, who was due for a regular visit here soon and who also works on Saturdays.
Fortunately, we had many places to go this weekend: three parties on Saturday (more on that later), and Father’s Day at my in-laws’ place. They got their new dining room set delivered Friday, and my mother-in-law wanted to celebrate. Their condo complex has a pool, and we all wanted to use that, too – any kind of water we could get our hands on, even chlorinated, was fine by us!
Okay, so it was not as dire as all that. We filled the bathtub with water before shutting off the main, and I used my sister-in-law’s shower – at four in the morning. No, she did not mind at all, since she was in California at the time…
You really don’t appreciate certain things until they are taken from you: the simple act of using a toilet becomes a matter of deciding to risk putting the water on and flushing or making a dash to someone else’s place – around the corner… at four in the morning…. This I did as I had to do my early shift at the food coop on Sunday.
Having also lived without cable TV since September, it was fun to flip channels again. The pathetic thing was that I ended up watching a show that highlighted old New York Knicks basketball games! The team’s been so bad now, I’m reduced to watching brief glimpses of their glory days!
I did, however, carry on tradition by falling asleep after dinner; having got up at four in the morning I needed the two-hour recharge. I was ready for dessert!
We stayed at the in-laws until we were sure the girls could sleep on the way home. We both decided to turn in, too, after we unloaded all the stuff we had. By Monday we would have our drains cleaned again, and so Father’s Day was not, er, a washout. Best of all, when I did get home from that early Sunday morning shift at the coop, I was lavished with home-made cards and two very enthusiastic little girls telling me all about them and kissing me and saying “Happy Father’s Day.” Don’t get much better than that!