Boomer Journals 6 — Washing Dishes With Pail and a Makeshift Dipper

We were having problems with our subdivision’s water supply. Whether it’s scarcity from the supply line or mismanagement in the distribution, only heaven knows how pissed we already were. The word ‘pissed’ by the way is already a watered down understatement of our mounting frustrations.

I felt the brunt of the unpleasant experience one night while washing the dishes using a plasticware for a makeshift dipper and a pailful of water saved the other day. While I was able to tame my grumbling self, I failed to do the same for my legs and my back brought about by standing for too long while looking dejectedly at the open, dropless faucet.

And tomorrow came.

Hopeful though I was with the dawning of the new day, I abandoned all hopes of having a running water in our tap.

Then evening came.

The dreaded moment of washing the dishes with a makeshift dipper and a pailful of water is mocking me right in my face once again. But before plunging into foretold misery, I opened the faucet with my eyes narrowed anticipating for the worst.

But lo and behold, water came out where I was expecting air! This was another instance in my life where I felt so good having my expectations proven wrong.

No more dipping tonight. And tonight, I told myself, I’m gonna be washing soap sods off kitchenwares on running water.

Suddenly, something dropped onto the plate I was holding. It was only then that I realized I was in tears. I was so fucking happy that I cried.