|This has nothing to do with the water outage except that the best thing to do when there is no water is to distract oneself with a sunset.|
If I had to guess, right now (9:05 AM) would mark about 50 hours without running water, and for 50 hours, we have not been able to flush toilets, wash our hands, wash dishes for 40 people three times daily, shower, or wash laundry – without hauling a ten gallon bucket up a hill to fill from the reserve tank.
And so I propose a solution to all of these things:
Only go Number One and take other business to the expanses of forest.
Bum hand sanitizer off thankfully over-prepared roommates.
Eyelash flutter until someone with a machismo complex fills your bucket of water.
River shower, don’t forget the shampoo.
Use extra deodorant.
And by following these practical rules, I have managed to stay well hydrated, reasonably smelling, and appreciative of the small things, such as our drinking water has remained unaffected by the very unfortunate break in the water line, apparently a few miles up the mountain.
Adaptation. It seems like I’ve been here a lifetime already. Scrubbing undies on the pila, washing my feet before I step into bed (I don’t want to have dirt spots in there), eating at least six tortillas, eating at least two eggs, batting the giant flying beetles away from my face after dark.
Jumping off the waterfalls, I don’t think I’ll get tired of having a swimming pool/watering hole/rock climbing wall right in the backyard. It really hasn’t been much of an OH NO without the water because there is plenty. Climbing twenty feet, thirty feet to (cautiously, with much hesitation, but then commitment) fly off the ledge and into the jade green water. It’s as much of a shower as I could get in our house.
I am completing this at 6:30 PM and the water has been back for about 4 hours. People are scrambling for the showers like the shower was made of chocolate and pizza, which are other things people would go crazy for. I went to the river. I’ll get dusty before bedtime anyway.
***Fast forward to 8:45 AM, when the water is yet again not working because we have to fill the tanks. So I went to the bathroom to prepare for my day, armed with the bucket of water filled to “flush” the toilet. So I went. And I poured, and it persisted. Dragged the bucket out to the laundry station to refill. Fail. Four more times and I had attracted an audience: apparently, it has never taken someone six buckets of water to flush the toilet. But victory tastes so sweet when accompanied by perseverance.