When Getting Water Isn't Easy. Again.

Two and a half weeks ago- that's two water days- I had a pretty rough time getting water.

I had previously also had some...mishaps, while getting water. I almost lost the tank, had to drive around like a loon looking for the pump station (which turned out to be poisoned), and spoke on the issue of what makes the Local Hairy-Man Operated Pizzeria slightly unnerving.


This time was not much different. Last week I actually had a normative water day. The Thirsty Wolf even got a new puppy. Things are looking up, but boy, the week I had two...




It all started out fine. Me and my dad were of course arguing over something- I forget what- so it wasn't the best of days to begin with, but he was at work and I was at home and water needed to be got, so off I went.

I got into the truck. It's a 1989 (same year I was born) Ford F-150 with some really good tires on it (it was given to us by my dearest Granny; thanks, Granny!). They're good for hauling water, that is. Not so good for driving on roads where there isn't 2 feet of mud. People routinely comment. "Wow, dood, thast a ton of water lol, how u carry it?" I do not correct them that it is in fact two and a quarter tons of water. "Prayer and supplication!" I say.

They jump backwards (even old ladies!), arch their backs and hiss. If you ever want to get out of an uncomfortable conversation, just say something like "Jesus rocks" or "Prayer is the answer" or something. I am convinced that murders have been committed by getting someone near the edge of a cliff and whispering "Jesus saves!" to which they jump back with such force they fly off the cliff. Cursing on the way down.


I drove out to the gate. Druh druh druh druuuuh. It dies. "What in Manhattan?" I ask myself. It is sprinkling by now. The Rice Cooker rain; it rains very lightly, failing to cool the environment down, thus creating steam from the moisture. You can put rice in a pan, set it outside for 20 seconds, then bring it back in and it's done. This goes against several laws of nature, but then, so does the 206 degree days we experience out here that create the steam in the first place.

I had to walk all the way back to the house- about 500 feet- to get a siphoning hose. I knew I was out of gas. We have two tanks on the truck, but one tank doesn't work so well. I would siphon from that tank, then deposit it into the main tank, and I'd be a happy, contented camper.

Little did I know, foolishness was about to get the best of me.


First, I had to get the gas can to siphon into.

Aha! Luckily, we have two real nice ones. With rust on them. That's no indicator of what's inside of them, right?
Oh, drat. I guess it is.

That's Little Jihad, or LJ, my mom's dog. He's a pit bull, and he still doesn't have the tag I made for him on.

That's Precious. She doesn't look too happy, does she? Strangely enough, The White Cats- we call Precious and Vicious "The White Cats"- don't seem to mind rain too much, unless it's a downpour.

Luckily, I found a Gas Can that isn't likely to have rust in it! Rust is like the mold of the iron world.

Gleg. It isn't the cleanest water I've ever seen, but it is not rusty. (The pictures are blurry because it is sprinkling, and there's water and water stains on the lens.)

Next, you'll need a siphonin-...oh, well, lookie there! That one will work. Get that. Grab it real hard and don't let it slip from your dread grasp:

...as you sorrowfully trudge your way back to the truck, which is...well, here's a picture.

Way out there.

Now, once you're way out there...get your hose...


...OH, A THOUSAND ILL-CONCEIVED CURSES, WHERE'S THAT DARNED HOSE AT?!

...drat!

I trudge back.

On second thought, do not rely on your feeble fingers. Tie it around your wrist real good. Take the time to realize...that...

There's a slash in the hose! Argh!

Get this hose to siphon with...then realize it won't work...

Then get this hose, which will, but only for about 3 gallons.


Dump the 3 gallons you got into the tank. Wildly, with your tongue flopping out of your mouth and a crazed grin on your face, check the gas meter with wonder.

Darn. Still not enough. But it is enough to drive back to the house and hunt for a siphoning hose which will actually get more than 3 gallons. Before that, though...

Get some water running out of the tank (we always have 30-40 gallons leftover).

• Wash your eyes out, which got gasoline in them.
• Get some water in your mouth and try to get the oily gasoline residue to leave, only succeeding in spreading it. Hope it doesn't hit your lungs.
• Wonder how much damage will be done to your lips. Gasoline rhymes with Vasoline, but they are different aside from that.
• Wash out your ears. Yes, your ears. This is how you know you siphoned the gas successfully.
• Wash your nostrils very well; I think sinuses don't like gasoline.
• Wash the spots on your shirt that got gas on them. That is, just go change clothes.
• Try to figure out the ratio between gas you got in the can, and the gas you got in your eyes.
• Start up the truck and drive closer to the house so that you're not in danger of being talked to by neighbors, who don't understand that, like as the gas station while pumping gas, their car should not be running while in the vicinity of you.

Once you're back near the house, ponder if you're dripping with rain water or gasoline. Shudder.


After this, I stumbled around until I found a really nice siphoning hose. It was great. In fact, it let me siphon most of the gas out. Hooray! Here is a picture of it working, below.

If you're happy and you know it gratefully keep your face two feet from the gas! If you're happy and you know it you'll actually be able to keep your face more than two feet from the gas! If you're happy and you know it- the gas that isn't in your eyes will show it- if you're happy and you know it keep your face two feet from the gaaaas! HOORAY!

I forgot how much water I got. This was the week that I had to go 2 miles to get the water, and I discovered that the truck weaves side to side when it's loaded down with 2 tons of water. Did I mention that our homemade bridge successfully can hold 4 tons of weight? Probably more, but I know something went over it that weighed 4 tons; it was 85 bails of hay on a trailer, and the trailer stopped with all 4 wheels on the bridge. Yikes.

I got to see some telephone pole repairmen in an argument. One of them left their lunch pail on the transformer, and...oh, it was just dreadful. (Post sometime.) Now, I'm off to do something useful, like cook and clean and get ready to study my Bible with the guys tonight.



I think I'll be wearing my cowboy hat in memory of Heath Ledger. He died. I haven't cared that someone died this much since that one lady died, uh...I forget her name. She overdosed on drugs in a hotel room or something? Everyone stepped on a huge, collective Drama Mine and the media couldn't shut up for months, sort of like how Michael Jackson did?

[I'll stop making such long posts here in a while, I promise.]