Ahh, the simple pleasures– like a cool drink of water. In this amazing, modern, convenience-filled world, what could be simpler than a cool drink of water? Open a tap: out it pours– clean, fresh, quenching. Mmmm…
Ummm. Unless you’re us. If you’re us, well… it’s a little less straightforward. Mark our relationship status with the world’s most basic necessity of life “complicated.”
We like our drinking water carbonated, you see. So there’s kind of a supply chain– I mean, even after the water treatment plant and the underground mains and household plumbing and all that. We’ve got online ordering with accounts and passwords, gas canister deliveries (requiring signature) and special trips to the Post Office to return empty canisters. We have to have licenses for the canisters we use to make our water just that little extra bit of delicious. Presumably we’re on some kind of tracking list for people who routinely obtain controlled substances. If there is ever a mishap or a spot of mischief involving CO2, we will definitely be hauled in for questioning.
But oh, the bubbles! They are worth the risk. They are worth the bother… Wait a minute… Are they? Are they really?
What if– indulge me a minute here– what if we drank regular (or as Claire used to call it “wiggly”– from “weg-a-ler”) water? How much would that simplify our lives? And if that simplification is worth doing, what others might we want to consider? Coffee? What if we also started drinking coffee we could buy at the convenience store and brew in any old coffee maker– no special pods to either order online (more accounts and passwords) or to have to trek to the busiest department store in London to buy? Just a thought… But then, I never have been one to consider Folger’s in my cup ‘the best part of waking up’– though I have occasionally been known to look forward to my morning espresso…
But I digress. We’re talking about water. Water and simplicity. Since I began the above portion of this blog, our relationship with water has become even more complicated.
Monday morning, we noticed that the carpet in Quinn’s room was wet. By the time I got home from taking them to school, it was quite wet, and I alerted the landlord and his maintenance guy. By noon, the baseboards were curling and the drywall above them was bubbling. I placed another call, prominently dropping the phrase “significant damage.” That finally got the maintenance guy here– around dinner time.
The saga continues from there, and though it is so tempting to dump it all out to you like water down the eave spout in a storm, I will resist. I will hold back the floodwaters of frustration. I have had to agitate at every turn, first to get someone here, then to get them to realize their first drying solution was not working. And now, they are planning to tear out our beautiful, marble, walk-in shower in the master bathroom– sorry, the landlord’s beautiful master bathroom– to solve a problem that is probably not even originating there. (How could the water be coming from the shower when we weren’t even here to take a shower for the last 10 days?) How do I pull the plug on all this??
Our house smells like a dungeon– let’s not say sewer– and something certainly must be done. But damned if I am going to live several weeks without my bathroom without clear proof that the problem is coming from there. I think I will invite the landlord to come over and have a drink and a chat with us so we can try to insert some method into this madness. Surely he can’t be anxious to tear out all that marble and glass?
(Sighing and rubbing my temples) I want to go back to the U.S. Or at the very least, I want another coffee– the kind made from expensive pods in my expensive little machine. A double! And on the side I want a glass of carbonated water. Turns out that’s not so very complicated.