Thursday, January 15, 2004
Our pipes are frozen. Last night as I tried to fall to sleep I kept listening for signs that the running water in our pipes was winning the battle against the ice and cold. I strained my ears and made myself a nervous wreck. I worried about pipes bursting and waking up to a living room beneath sea level (which is what I had always hoped a sunken living room referred to). I had restless dreams of going down to the basement and taking matters into my own hands, a blowtorch in hand, melting the ice in the pipes.
I woke up this morning to the mailman handing me a cheque for 400 dollars. It was nice, but it didn't do anything to cure this sore throat I have and it didn't make the water come back on. I washed my face with melted snow and I went out to purchase provisions as I'm not sure how long this coldsnap is going to last. I read in the Coast today that you should drink at least 2 litres of water a day, that didn't make me feel any better, it just reminded me that I effectively don't have 2 millilitres of water, let alone 2 litres. I'm hoping that a box of turtles (the edible, chocolate kind) and a thank you card, will motivate my superintendent to fix the pipes sooner, rather than later.
Melting snow on the stove, stumbling around outside half awake while picking up provisions, who the fuck is writing my life, Farley Fucking Mowat?!
I woke up this morning to the mailman handing me a cheque for 400 dollars. It was nice, but it didn't do anything to cure this sore throat I have and it didn't make the water come back on. I washed my face with melted snow and I went out to purchase provisions as I'm not sure how long this coldsnap is going to last. I read in the Coast today that you should drink at least 2 litres of water a day, that didn't make me feel any better, it just reminded me that I effectively don't have 2 millilitres of water, let alone 2 litres. I'm hoping that a box of turtles (the edible, chocolate kind) and a thank you card, will motivate my superintendent to fix the pipes sooner, rather than later.
Melting snow on the stove, stumbling around outside half awake while picking up provisions, who the fuck is writing my life, Farley Fucking Mowat?!
