Let Inga Tell You: Finding ourselves loo-less in La Jolla
There are certain things you never really appreciate until you don’t have them. Like water, for example.
Now I know there are folks out there who go camping in the wilderness and bathe in streams and do all that nature-y stuff. But Olof and I are not among them. We are strictly running-water people.
So it was with no little dismay that I returned home from errands recently to find a bevy of San Diego Water Department trucks on my street and our house without water. Turns out a section of the street just north of us had caved in. But this was not what broke the water main. It was the Bobcat that they’d sent out to investigate the sagging street that fell through it that broke the water main.
Most optimistic guess for water: seven hours. But sure enough, at 5 p.m., after a certain amount of sputtering, water once again coursed through our pipes.
A mere 10 minutes later, I turned on the kitchen faucet, basking in renewed thanks that we live in a land of potable water. Nothing. Nada. Not so much as a drip. This was not a good sign. I wandered out to chat it up with the water department guys who were by this time my new best friends. Terrible thing, they said. The fittings on the pipes in my neighborhood are so old that it didn’t take much pressure to blow the main again a few hundred feet south of the first break as soon as they turned the water back on. No idea when the water will be back up again.
Olof wandered in a little after 7 p.m. He’d been gone since 4:30 a.m., and he’s not terribly excited about going out. He wanted a Scotch and dinner and a prone surface, in that order. And water for a shower. As if by magic, we hear rumblings in the water heater. Is Olof the Water Whisperer? The water has come back on!
For exactly two minutes.
NOOOOOOOO!!! I’m just kicking myself. Why didn’t I use that time to run around and flush toilets, rinse dishes, wash salad greens? After a whole day without water, the house is starting to smell like an F-rated restaurant.
I chat it up with the water guys again. Another ancient fitting has blown yet further down the line. But this one looks really really bad. Gotta dig up the street. He hopes we’ll have water by morning.
I improvise a water-free dinner. Olof plotzes. An hour later, those dinner dishes and pots are smelling particularly ripe in the unseasonably warm weather. I’m tempted to put them outside in trash bags (we don’t have a garage) but fear hosting a rodent bacchanalia.
All night long we are serenaded by the sounds of jackhammers, beeping trucks and lots of clunking. Of course, we’re massively grateful they’re out there. But the person who could make a soundless jackhammer would get our vote for the Nobel Prize.
Olof has left several faucets in the “on” position. Because this time we have A Plan. We also have No Confidence. We envision the water mains on our street being repaired 10 feet at a time, while we go waterless for weeks.
At 5:11 a.m. we awake to the sound of water gushing from the faucets. We bolt from bed and by predetermined arrangement, race around flushing toilets, speed washing rancid dishes, filling up buckets, leaping into showers. We have no idea how many minutes, or even seconds, we will have water. But we will not be fooled again!
At 5:16 a.m. we’re finished. We did it! Our own little Quadrathlon. It occurs to us that this is more cardio than we’ve had in years.
This time, the water actually stays on. But we are no longer naïfs. We have peered into the holes in the street and now know just how decrepit the infrastructure really is. We have seen the future, and it is seriously rusty and corroded.
But for the moment, we have showers. And more appreciation of water than we have had in years.
*** Look for La Jolla resident Inga’s lighthearted looks at life every other week in The La Jolla Light. Reach her at email@example.com
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