Owing A Debt Of Gratitude For Indoor Plumbing

My throat hurts.

From screaming.

'Cause a bee flew in the car window this morning.

He didn't stay in the Honda for very long. He buzzed in. He buzzed out.

My screaming? Oh that went on for a mile or two. I'm not proud of this fact. I'm merely setting up the premise that situations like this are the main reason I'm not a big fan of nature.

And it's all Chuck the Plumber's fault that I was dealing with nature this morning.

I didn't want to leave my house this morning. I wanted to sit quietly and sift through all of the end of year, 'I cleaned out my desk/locker at school' papers that my children have brought home in the last few days. Instead, I had to leave my paper mess because Chuck the Plumber is here to do whatever it is that plumbers do to install a bathroom in a basement. Chuck the Plumber told me that he would need to shut off the water to the house for a few hours in order to move some pipes around downstairs.

Essentially, Chuck the Plumber has thrust me back to the era in which there was no running water in houses.

Back to a time when a flushing potty was just a glimmer in Thomas Crapper's eye.

Ew.

I am currently without water in my house and nothing, nothing makes me have to pee more than knowing I can't. Well, that and the fact that I've already downed about sixty-four ounces of water this morning. Oh I could trek outside to find a suitable tree or some corn stalks or something, but I really don't want to. A bee could sting me and that would not make my day very cheery.

Finding a tree isn't my only option, I suppose. I could drive into town to use a public restroom, but that would take at least half an hour round trip. Whilst in town, I'd probably decide to pop through the drive thru at McDonald's for a large Diet Coke and then I'd be in the same situation in an hour because I tend to be forgetful.

And I have a tiny, tiny bladder.

I'd hate to get home only to discover that my water is still shut off and nature was a callin' again. Geez Louise. What I wouldn't give to have a potty again.

Gotta be honest. Right now, I'm kinda jealous of Caroline Ingalls. At least she had an outhouse. Sure it didn't flush and probably smelled putrid, but at least she had a place to go. With a door to ensure some semblance of privacy. And keep out the bees of Walnut Grove.

I only have corn and it's currently about eight inches tall. Bees love it.

My point is this: I opted to zip into town for a quick-and-grody-but-still-better-than-bee-infested-corn bathroom break. Do you see the irony here people? I went into town to avoid nature and nature buzzed her way into the down window of my Honda.

Let's all say a silent prayer that Chuck the Plumber turns the water back on before my thirty-two ounce Diet Coke kicks in. Not sure I can brave another trip into town. Pin It Now!