The accidental vacation

So yes, it was 19 degrees (so they say) when I was expecting 28. So yes, I thought leaving two faucets running was sufficient. Hah. The toilet lines froze. The hot water lines froze. We made a Walmart run for buckets and filled them with water from the two faucets that were working so we could flush the toilets.

And then the temperature began to rise above freezing.

I was outside, checking on the yard, when I heard the hiss of water. I peeked around the north side of the house, where the sidewalk was still slick with ice, and saw the water running from under the house. Uh-oh.

So we had to shut off the main water line to the house. Now what?

We couldn't stay in the house if we had no running water. I remembered that's what finally got the last holdouts living in this unflooded neighborhood to leave the city four days after Katrina: when the city shut off the water. So we made a few phone calls and found a hotel nearby. The dog had to go to the vet. Sweetie the diabetic cat, who needs insulin every twelve hours, went with us. The other cats stayed in the house. We were close enough to come back to check on them during the day.

And so we went on an accidental vacation. It would have been fun if it hadn't been so stressful: life on hold until the plumber could get to us. Don't let the cell phone get out of reach, in case the plumber calls.

But we did have a fun dinner in a Mexican restaurant that had water. By then, of course, the city was under a boil water advisory because the water pressure had gotten so low from people running their faucets -- and, of course, the broken pipes. So the restaurant had to boil water for ice, etc. And the hotel was handing out bottled water to guests so we could brush our teeth.

The son of a good friend from the New York City area was coming to town that weekend. All I could think, gritting my teeth, was how hard the city had struggled to get past "Third World and Proud of It." And now this New Yorker was coming to a city where you couldn't drink the water.

Fortunately, the boil water advisory was lifted by the weekend and the city had some semblance of normalcy again.

And the plumber arrived Saturday morning. There were so many pipes spurting water ("leaks" is a word that does not do it justice) under the house that he lost count: "seven or eight," he said.

But we were able to check out of the hotel and get the dog back from the vet. The accidental vacation was exciting, to say the least. But there's no place like home.