The Camel's Back
Because I seem to have a superhuman resistance to Ambien, I had run the dish washer at midnight, and then I woke up and ran hot water through all the downstairs faucets at 4:00 am. and again at 6:30. But when I tried to run the bathroom faucet at 8:00, the pipes rattled and sputtered and spit out a few spurts of nasty brown water. Same with the bathtub. So I did what anyone in my position would do: I curled up in fetal position beneath a pile of quilts and wept.
And miraculously, the Goddess had mercy on me: by 8:20 the water was running at full force, clean again. The pipes had only frozen but not burst. I was very very lucky.
We're expecting a low of 21 tonight, so I'll have to be even more aggressive about letting the water run freely. Most of the rooms in my drafty old Victorian won't go above 45 degrees today.
Anyway, here's the big scary truth that collided with me head on this morning: my normal healthy mature coping skills have been strained to the breaking point. I have maxed out on troubles. One more tiny tribulation could send me sailing straight through the windshield of reality.
A tiny insulated cottage next door to Mr. Man and his advanced plumbing skills is looking better and better by the minute.
Lulu glares indignantly at the solid iceberg in her water dish.