Friday, August 15, 2008


Living in the country, while we love it, has some disadvantages. Sure, we've got the fresh country air, corn and beans for neighbors, a great school for our first grader, the Big Dipper every night in the summer, and fragrant sweet corn and other assorted green stuff out our back door, but little things crop up from time to time that have me wanting to curse.

I grew up in the city, lived there all my life. Granted it's not a huge city, nothing like NYC, or even Cleveland, but just about the right size for me. Rural living has been an adjustment. We've not lived here long, we bought our house last year, just in time for the lad to start kindergarten. I don't know the first thing about tractors and fertilizers and water softeners and mice.

Up until now, with rare exceptions, I've pretty much taken any obstacle in stride. Last night I was pissed.

We ran out of water. Or something. I don't know what happened. The water just stopped. Then came on. Then stopped. Then came on. I know we have a well. How it works, don't ask me. We haven't had any rain here in over two weeks, probably closer to three. Is the well empty? Do we need a new one? Some guys at work suggested it could be the pump, or the pressure switch. Um, okay. What does that mean?

After my wondrous discovery last evening, I went to where my husband was working on a deck with a friend. I told him about what happened, thinking, I don't know, maybe he'd fix it or something. He and his friend Matt, who had a few ideas (he's a native, after all), were too busy to do anything about it last night. (Remember, the water was coming back on after a few minutes; wasn't too high on the priority list, I suppose.) Well, I had a few choice words to say about the situation while we were talking it over later.

But first, I had something even more pressing and important on my mind: Would Matt be interested in...

1 comment:

Ms. Lily said...

oh you are evil, lol. Interested in what exactly, and is he?