What's going on here? I'll feckin' tell you what's going on here. The brutality of this winter has caused our water line to freeze (never happened in the eight years we have lived in this hut) such that our running water has ceased to operate. It's fine, really. Half the world probably lives like this. I will not be appearing on Fox News asking for the mayor to be sacked or demanding to know where Obama was when this was going down.
We will survive. I have six beers and some left over Chinese food in the fridge. Martha and the kids can eat carrots and cheese. The city will swing by in the next few days and thaw the line out. Until then we'll live... like animals.
Thank God for neighbors. Actually, let me de-pluralize that statement. Thank God for a certain neighbor. I'm talking about Steve, the greatest neighbor since Ned Flanders. The other neighbor wouldn't give me the steam off his piss and I wouldn't want it anyway. I'm not sure if he is even out of bed yet. Useless prick. One phone call and Steve tells me to come over and fill up every vessel I can get my paws on. Oh, and one of his renters throws in a few cupcakes for good measure. Tempted as I was to make a comment about my dislike of peanut M&M's I kept it to myself. I'll just pick them off love, don't worry about it.
Steve would literally give you the shirt off his back. A few years ago I stupidly put my hand into a machine at work (
LINK) and caused quite the injury. A week after that it started bleeding again. Clara was only a year old and it was late at night so Martha didn't want to have to wake the two kids to drive me to the hospital (in sickness and in health?). She goes next door and knocks on Steve's door. He answer's the door shirtless and dazed. He had been sleeping on the couch. Martha described the predicament. He listened intently and then asked "Do I have time to put a shirt on?" He drove me to the hospital and waited until I got fixed up and then drove me home. That's a neighbor.
