Okay, this bullshit I spewed yesterday about being so cool and calm about not having hot water? It’s all over. I woke up this morning to discover that we will not have any hot water until at least tomorrow. That means late tomorrow because it takes hours, HOURS for a tank to heat up, which translates to Wednesday morning in renter’s terms. It would be bearable if it were just the two of us and we didn’t have a child that LOVES to stick his hands on his ball sack when mommy is changing his diaper and his said package is covered in feces. I’ve said it before. I have serious issues with poop on hands, bacteria spreading through poop and poop in general. I can talk about poop, joke about poop, even look at poop. I laughed my ass off when our sick and lovely friends Kate and Matt showed us the Internet sensation that was “Two Girls And A Cup”. If you haven’t seen it, find it. It is THE most disgusting, bizarre, and riveting spectacle I have ever witnessed. And I thought it was hilarious when all said and done.
What I do not find amusing is having to carry a shit covered child downstairs to the kitchen, pour hot water from a huge pasta pot from the stove into a small Pyrex bowl and wash his little stinky fingers with the fear that I might burn either one of us beyond recognition. I am a city girl at heart and hate carrying water on my head or shoulders or anywhere else on my body. I LOVE my appliances. I love the modern convenience of water that comes form a faucet and gives you the choice of what temperature you desire at that particular time. I love that my food stays fresh in a huge, cold cupboard known as a refrigerator and that if that isn’t doing it for me I can pick up a small device known as a phone and call any number of restaurants to come bring me food. I even love the fact that I do not have to drag my living room rug outside once a week, hang it over a line, and beat it to death to get the dust and dirt off of it. My small, canister vacuum cleaner does all that work for me and all I have to do is turn it on and push it around.
I would lose “Survivor” within hours of the first tearful testimonial and I am not ashamed to admit it. I can go months without a hair dryer, makeup or a television. I am not some psycho princess that has to primp and shop and have shit done for her. I hate the mall. I haven’t bought any new clothes in at least 5 months and I can’t stand the modern shoe addicted female whose choice of literature teeters between IN STYLE and Oprah’s Book Club Pick Of The Month. I just want my clothes washed, my dishes sterilized and my son not to spread Salmonella to his friends and family. I want to soak in a hot bath and wash away the last three days of aggravated sponge bathing, tearful cold showers and dirty urban camping. Wednesday can’t come fast enough.
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