Shower Droughts

So I was showering a couple days ago when suddenly there was a shudder and groaning of pipes, practically shaking the ceiling, followed by a pounding at the door where Tasha yelled, "Shut off the water! Shut it off!" Apparently our water softener has turned on us. Instead of doing its cycle in the middle of the night while we are all peacefully sleeping, it has decided to rebel and will start a cycle at any given time of day it feels like, which means that if any water source is turned on at that same time it could bust a pipe! There I stood shivering, soap bubbles growing dry and flaky on my arms, trying not to curse the lifeless water softener. I diverted myself as best as I could as I began to recall all of the hilarious methods I have had to use in order to cleanse myself in the last year.

In Mexico our water source came from a pump that occasionally stopped pumping. It always seemed to happen right after I built up my little beehive of hair with shampoo, crowning my cranium, ready to be rinsed clean, when suddenly the water would cut off mid stream with not even a droplet drip to clear the suds out of my eyes. The first time I had no idea what to do! No one had warned me this was a regular occurrence, but soon after it became almost unusual to NOT run out of water at some point in the shower.
I would holler out, "Abuelita! Pardona me!"
To which she would sweetly reply, "Si mi guerrita (little white girl)?"
"Hay estas no agua! Por favor ayudame!"
This familiar dialogue was followed by a slapping of feet against tiled floor, the scrape of a wooden chair as she hoisted her 4 foot 9 inch figure to the switch high up in the kitchen that would start the pump over again. "Llava llava ninita! (wash wash little girl!)" She would laugh from the floor below as the water would explode down upon my beehived head.
"Gracias Abuelita!"

Similarly, our water source in India came from giant wells dug on the property, surrounded by thin linked fences to keep the children from a dangerous topple into these 25 ft deep pits. While the sweet Kirby kids had the joy of a giant daisy bowl bath and the Kirby Cottage actually had a shower head in their bathroom (the height of luxury!), those of us in the hostels were not quite as glamorous. A tiny bucket stood by a spout in a concrete stall where mosquitoes hovered over little pools of water from the last shower. I had a highly developed method I liked to call "The Shower Shimmy." I would stack my clean clothes on the sink outside the stall, take my towel in hand and creep to the door so as to not alert my enemies. Then with warrior-like movements I would thrust into the stall, flailing my towel about like a whirlwind, swiping the mosquitoes out of stall and stamping my flip flops on any that didn't clear the ground fast enough. I would slam the door shut, inevitably still surrounded by a handful of other Malaria carrying pests! It's amazing how little water you can use in a shower when scooping each small bucketful from spicket to head, trying your best to dance out of reach of the disease infested noses trying to suck your blood! I was pretty proud when I would return from the shower with only one or two new bites!

When the water softener shut off five minutes later and I was able to resume, I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the flood of memories a brief drought of water can bring! :)