Today marks 21 days without water
here at the cabin. There's a kind of
magical symmetry to that if you think
hard enough. Three weeks, three times
seven, twenty one. I obviously have a
thing for numerical nuance.
It's been interesting, to say the least . . .
Garnering drinking water from Natural
Grocers, catching a wash and a shower
from time to time at my son's, awaking
to my Phyllis Diller routine every a.m.
To say nothing of heat tape everywhere,
two heaters under the cabin, spending
more time upstairs than down . . .
. . . Wait for it, this morning we heard
a drip. In fact, 'twas a drip, drip, drip!
The dripping was even warm. Not to
count victory just yet, could be water
just itching to return, or pray God no,
could be a ruptured pipe.
Bottom line, it's only a drip . . . but
I've seen hope created from less!
heres hoping praying
never thought id pray for drips
give us a gush babe
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