It has been a trying week, but an end may be in sight.
Until last night there was only a small amount of fluid dripping pitifully from the tap, a weak stream barely flowing through the pipe.
3 days of no washing or showering or bathing or toileting, or however you relieve yourself when you're feeling especially dirty.
Finally, the powers that were never chosen to be, whoever they were, in their finite wisdom decided that the time had come to turn the water to my house back on.
I leapt into the shower and was able to scrub and rub and come out cleaner than I had been since Tuesday.
Then I stripped the sheets, dropped a load of laundry in the machine, washed the dishes.
As I mentioned to a good friend later in the evening - in defiance of mother nature I domesticated all over the bitch!
Of course, being able to get everything all wet made it easier, but the worst part of all was the cold. It was soooooo cold.
The heat had been off for approximately 24 hours. I had been alone the whole time and when it did come over me again, I screamed and writhed in satisfaction. It was over. I made it through a long night of no heat.
And no thanks to the limp dick who is supposed to be controlling the joint. While he was off getting his his sphincter bleached during a suspiciously-timed vacay, I was rocking a wicked chafe on my inner thighs due to the friction of rubbing against my ever-shriveling testi-cicles.
Then this happened:
Stiff from cold, I searched for a warm spot under the covers to retreat into until I was satisfied and ready to move on.
I could barely get myself up long enough to make it to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, but eventually the heat returned to my bones and I rose.
Thinking about the Walking Sleeping bag that someone has been threatening to give me as a birthday present, my mind drifted and I tumbled headlong over the living room table.
I heard a bone-chilling sound, not unlike the sound a rock-hard stalagmite makes when it snaps in half. Fearing the worst, I frantically checked to see if I had cracked an ice pube. Fortunately I had not, and the noise I heard was only the splintering of the polished oak table.
Yes, my sack street boys had frozen solid, enough so that they broke the hardwood on contact.
It was petrifying.
An icy moment like that tends to bring the mind into focus; makes the darkest, sickest fancies less taboo. It forces the body to stand taller by erecting a tower to ward against any future sack attack; a sheath to protect against any further issue.
As of last night the electricity, power, and water are all on, and even the wifi is back up and running.
It has been a trying week, but an end may be in sight.
Despite all that, today is not one that will live in infamy. But I have experienced very few dates that will.
