The hits just keep on comin'.
My husband called me last Friday while I was out shopping to let me know we had a huge problem with the power supplying our water pump. I cut my trip short and came home to be of whatever support I could.
Everything came together somewhat magically and we had running water again by the end of the day. It took a lot of coordination and effort and manpower, but we now have a telephone pole holding up the electrical box and meter, and it all worked well.
Until Tuesday night, when we noticed the water pressure was weak. In the light of yesterday we went to the site and – eventually – discovered a burnt-out wire. It was most likely damaged when the original, inadequate pole fell on Friday. But it took a few days to actually fail, giving us quite the false sense of security.
So no water yesterday while we figured out what was wrong and what we needed to do to fix it. And no water today while we gather the materials and coordinate the manpower. And maybe – MAYBE – we'll have water tomorrow.
One of my Facebook friends commented over there that perhaps we needed to move to civilization.
That's an EXCELLENT suggestion.
Know anyone who wants to buy a lovely home in the country with, um, water issues?
What else? About a month ago my husband approached me with the idea that he might like to learn how to use one of those tablet things. You know, move into the 21st century. Embrace the technology. He has since gone on an anti-technology rant at least once a week. I might be adding his Kindle (Merry Christmas, honey!) to my arsenal of devices.
Also, I spent a lot of time and effort gathering a bunch of Indian spices and spice mixes to give my sister for Christmas, who adores Indian cuisine. Along with her thanks, she said she didn't know where to find any of the other ingredients she would need to make the recipes. I'm a by-guess-and-by-golly kind of cook. If the directions say add blah-blah-blah, and I only have chicken broth on hand, by golly I'll use chicken broth.
She, apparently, goes by the book and was just a little less grateful than I thought she'd be. Oh, well. Those were my expectations. Once the gift is out of my hands I can't do anything about it. But believe me, she's getting a check next year.
There are other things I won't or can't go into, and so it's time to dig deep and come up with something positive upon which to end this drivel.
Did I ever write about the two boys our Amish neighbors were fostering? (I can't find any past record of it if I did.) The couple who had the boys also owned the bakery. Melissa (the wife/mom) is my friend who died last summer. At the time she died, she and her husband were fostering four siblings, but prior to that they'd had two brothers for nearly nine months. The state decided the biological mother had turned her life around and the boys were sent back to her just before they were about to be adopted.
Which devastated Simon and Melissa, but within a couple days the new children arrived. Only to be removed when Melissa died.
Leaving Simon quite alone.
Well, when I picked up the little Amish girls to go to school Monday morning, I heard the news that the two little brothers are back with Simon. Their mom's addiction was apparently stronger than her affection for her children. Which is sad, yes, but we're all so happy for Simon and the boys.
So, yes, the hits do keep on coming, as hits are wont to do.
But the Universe has a way of evening things out.
P.S. At least I don't have to do laundry. Or dishes. So YAY for that!