Day 5 without water.

You have to read that aloud, in the tone used to read the journals of the arctic explorers, to get the full effect.

Actually, it's not quite that bad. Cold water we have plenty of - it's the hot variety that's missing, meaning no restorative bowl of water to sit in for hours on end, recuperating from the woes of the world. Something is wrong with the hot water heater, and John has been trying to fix it, on and off, since early in the week. For a little while we had no water at all, making plenty of the cold variety seem such a luxury that I've quit complaining and/or beseeching the gods.

All the clothing and dishes are dirty, as are the humans (well, this one, anyway, although I do sponge off using a big basin of water heated on the stove. The others take *shudder* cold showers.)

I was all set to go get a room or two at the Lincklaen House and order up turkey club sandwiches and a bottle of Alsacian rose, but I realized that the bill for that would be about the same as for a new water heater, so I've taken to my bed for the duration.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll shovel a path through the kitchen, heat my big basin of water and start washing my way through the dishes. I suppose the clothing could be washed on cold. (I suppose I could as well, although it's not too bloody likely.) I could get a fire going in the woodstove and the fireplace and make something warm to eat. But for now, I'm staying in bed, drinking room temperature beverages (read: chilled) and reading, drawing warmth out of the cat instead of the inverse.

Things are nippy up here on the hill.