Little Apartment on the Potomac

In the past few days, with whom do you most identify? Oh, that's a easy one. Laura Ingalls Wilder. Yes, you heard me right, Laura f-in Ingalls Wilder! I can honestly say I thought that I would never say that (and I have said a lot of crazy shit in my time). Here, let me explain...

So for the last few weeks my apartment has had issues with hot water. And by issues, I mean instead of hot water coming out of my shower, remnants of the last remaining glaciers on Earth would come out, and I swear I saw an small Inuit man with a pack of sled dogs fly past my toilet. It has been "tolerable" for the past few weeks but this weekend, I reached my breaking point with this subzero shower. On Saturday, I went to shower before meeting my dearest Bucknell DC friends at JMS's Law Revue (by the way, great show despite being mildly disturbed by the number of songs related to wanting to make lots of money and willing to do anything to do it --- hmmm wonder why they went into law school? To help their fellow man perhaps?). Unfortunately the water never got warm and only got colder and colder until I am pretty sure had I had some cherry flavoring, I could have made a snow cone with the shaved ice coming out of the shower head. Thus fearing for the safety of my own flesh, I decided I must forgo the shower, and go to the show relatively unkempt. Thus my apologizes for DK and PP who were sitting next to me if I was exuding any body odor.

So I awoke Sunday morning thinking obviously the hot water must be fixed by now. However, it was even WORSE, so much so that I almost decided to skip church for fear of getting looks from the fellow parishioners. Yet, my prayers went answered and St. Steamy McSoapy (just in case you don't belive me, he was 18th century Monk from Scotland who helped clean the poor) intervened and I got one shot at hot water.

Now you may be asking, where the hell does Little House on the Prarie fit in with this rant? Well, odds are you aren't thinking about that, but rather just happy you aren't working right now and reading this instead. So, Monday morning when I had to go to work, push came to straw and I broke. I awoke. Cold water. Lots of swearing. Angry call to my building manager. Then panic about how I am going to have to get ready for work. Suddenly, my pioneer ancestors' ingenuity came to mind on how to solve my dilemma. Boil the water! That's right, I filled up my biggest pot and put it on the stove. I then preceded to pour the water into the basin that was my bathroom sink and then used a washcloth to give myself a pseudo-sponge bath.

Now I must admit it must have been a funny site, well funny but sexy because it is ME (why are you silently laughing to yourself??). However, that has been the way I have been cleaning myself for the last 2 days and most likely will have to tomorrow as well.

Praise the Lord, they are "apparently" coming to fix the hot water tomorrow afternoon, but honestly I won't be surprised if it is another week of boiled water and desheveled appearances (which I am sure doesn't make my patients question trusting me with their lives at all). So, Laura Ingalls Wilder, I salute you, and I realize if I lived in late 19th century America I would have shot myself with a musket.