“Whatever is has already been, and what will be has been before, and God will call the past to account.” (Ecclesiastes 3:15)
A year ago November, the hot water tank blew a hole. We had a major flood in the basement and I got the equivalent of sticker shock when my electric bill, which is normally around $80-$90 a month, shot up into the thousands. With the hole in the tank, my well-pump was perpetually running, trying to fill the tank…until I discovered the flood and mitigated the loss of water. We’ve been heating water on the stove to bathe ever since. The damage, besides just being an old unit, was further impacted by the water softener, which had also died a slow, watery death (no pun intended). The build-up of too much iron on pipes and fittings had hastened its end.
Well, all that added wear and tear from perpetually running may have escalated the well-pump’s rumble towards its eternal death, too. Since last fall, we have had intermittent periods where all of a sudden, you go to turn on a tap and nothing comes out. However, within a couple of hours, we have running water again. It’s been touch and go.
Wednesday night, I went to fill a couple of gallon jugs to run through the water purifier before I went to bed…and nothing. As it was late, I went to bed assuming it would be back on in the morning.
It wasn’t.
36 hours later, we are still without running water. I’m thinking Wednesday night’s last run was, well, it’s last. However, I have done some trouble shooting online. It may also be a tripped circuit breaker. As my basement is a dark, dusty crawl space, I am waiting for the sun to fully rise and Mom to come downstairs with our only working flashlight so that I may go check. Recommendations also suggest shutting off the circuit breaker and then flipping it back on. We do have some electrical repairs that need to be done so, that could also be the issue. I had an electrician out to inspect but, he will have to take out a few walls to find out what it is…which will be a costly repair.
Ugh! It’s all happening at once.
I had a moment the other day where my nostalgia for the place got under the skin and I started thinking about repairs and remodels and landscaping projects, etc. I’ve had 20+ years of imagining how much this place could shine if I could finally get the needed repairs done. There’s the added bonus that I can walk to work. I can walk to the super Walmart if needed. I can walk to church. Six years’ ago, for anybody who has been following that long, walking was all I did due to not having a car for several months. In short, despite it’s derelict state of affairs, this house is centrally located to everything relevant to my life.
Of course, there’s still a zoning issue to consider…but I was doing just that. Can I find that attorney who can pull the proverbial rabbit out of a hat?
And, lo and behold, the pump gave out. Clearly, He is telling me, it is time to move on. It’s time to take up my cross and follow Him to wherever He leads. I don’t know where that is. Or how it will happen. I think it’s called walking by faith. I suspect, when the right place/situation comes along He’ll let me know…even as I flounder with uncertainty that such a place even exists.
It is incredibly quiet in the house now…except for a bunch of juvenile felines batting around their ping-pong track (not sure what else to call it; donut-shaped apparatus with tracks for blinking ping-pong like balls).
Amazing how quiet a home can be without the modern white noises running incessantly in the background.
That was one of the things that I loved about my job in living history museums: the peace and tranquility inside the antiquated houses. Like here, there was still the occasional pop-on of a furnace (the heat is needed to preserve the old houses) but, the incessant buzz of all the other modern-day “guts” was absent. Hence, my romanticization of 19th century life was reaffirmed.
Of course, in the 19th century, homes may not have had running water (unless they lived in a valley and could situate their well at the top of a hill…). Instead, they had a hand-pump to get water from their wells. There’s a company in Kidron, Ohio called Lehman’s that sells mostly Amish, and definitely American, made products. One of those products is hand-pumps. If I was staying, or if I’m ever lucky enough to obtain that backwoods home in Maine/New Hampshire/Vermont (Missouri?), there will be a hand-pump installed. If for no other reason, then for power outages when the electric pump does not work. While modern “conveniences” are nice, we have grown too dependent upon them–in my opinion anyway–and go into a panic every time a natural disaster, or other hiccough in the system, comes along.
However, even lacking the necessary infrastructure, so many water-saving lessons that I learned in living history museums are being put to use. I used to laugh that not too many modern employers would look at a resume and think, “Let’s hire this girl!” because my previous duties included spinning, weaving, straw braiding, and cooking on a hearth. But life–home life–appears to benefitting from those lessons.
Who knew?
Yesterday I set up the pitcher and wash bowl so we could brush our teeth and wash our hands. We actually use much, much less water that way. A couple of wash tubs filled with hot water to wash and then rinse dishes also saved more water than turning on a tap to rinse. Granted, a shower would be nice but, bowl baths will suffice in this pinch. And, while we’re using 19th century practices to conserve, from a financial standpoint, this won’t be sustainable in the long-run as, without the hand-pump, we are buying in water again. But we can get by for now…until I call around to some of the energy assistance facilities to see if there’s any help available to resolve some of this. (Please send lots of prayers!)
Of course, I can almost hear the elephant in the room: without water, you also cannot flush. Composting toilets are the new thing today, especially with tinyhouse owners. We have a crude, 19th century “composting toilet” (bucket with an old toilet seat atop it), with a bag of sawdust/shavings beside it to sprinkle over the top after we use it. Amazingly, any odor is quickly doused and less offensive than the flushing toilet. We have a canister out back for composting it later. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. This, too, shall pass.
May God bless you & keep you!