You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone

 

Last year, I started off with too much water from a leaking meter.

This year, I started off not having any water.

It seems we had a snowfall and the water filtration system had a problem and the entire city had water shut off.

I’ve had water shut off before. Hurricanes, late payments and even a broken heater tank caused the tap to go dry. Most had been a day or two until water came out of the tap again, so it has never been a destabilizing situation. I could find a public washroom to clean and flush. I could adjust my hydration from the tap to the can. I could go to the local barista for a steaming cup of Joe.

In this case, businesses were closing due to the lack of water. Shelves were empty of the omnipresent bottle water. No one in the city was watering their lawn, washing their cars or taking a bath.

Luckily there was snow on the ground to manually make the toilet function. There were enough different liquid variations to keep hydrated. There was no cooking or bathing, but there are privileges to living alone.

The city officials tried to keep the public positive by daily reports of what guys in jumpsuits and wrenches were doing to get the water running, but there was no time line.

By the end of the week, pumps had been replaced, filters were checked and the sputter through the faucet announced the water was back.

When the daily hours of boredom and redundancy goes on and on, we forget the essence of existence we take for granted. Flip a switch and light appears. Put in a key and the door opens. Turn the knob and water comes out.

The pipes in my neighborhood were installed at the end of WWII. The pipes further downtown were installed after the civil war. The city has sent out a notice checking for lead replacement in pipes but there is no deadline or cost established.

Just like the monotony of any relationship, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.