Let the Bloody Games Begin

We have no water. Whee! For the past few months, we've noticed that whenever we flush the toilet, the hiss of the water through the pipes had gone from steady to alternating between forceful and full-throated to sluggish. Likewise for the water pressure in the shower. And it has gone out entirely three or four times, only to magically return. This time, it's been dead for hours, which likely means that the pump that serves the neighborhood well has wheezed its last.

If so, it means that the neighborhood is in for fun, fun, fun, because the codger who owns the pump is a mean, parsimonious old bastard who makes Ebenezer Scrooge look the model of generosity, and I have no doubt that he's going to dig in his heels and refuse to replace the pump until he's tried half a dozen cheaper, less tenable options first. Last time this happened, he wanted to leave the neighborhood without water for a minimum of two weeks so his friend could look at it for free and maybe, eventually, do something about it.

I need not tell you the firestorm of bad feeling this inspired in the neighborhood. Most of us who live here are full-time residents on fixed incomes, but King Miser is a rich, old man who comes here three times a year to do basic upkeep on his second and third property. Since he doesn't live here--and is on a second, separate pump on the rare occasion he does--he gives not a damn if we plebes have water to drink and with which to wash our asses. But we damn well better pay our annual pump bill on time.

Well, the first shots in this latest civil war have been fired, because our neighbor has already called the power/pump company to assess the problem, and never mind King Miser. I'm sure he'll blow a gasket when he finds out that the plebes have dared go "behind his back" to fix a problem instead of waiting for the royal imprimatur, but I can't bring myself to care. It's hot. It's only going to get hotter with the advent of summer, and we cannot go without the means to bathe or cook or flush our toilets for weeks while he figures out how best to save a few dollars. Our neighbor has already informed us that if the company recommends replacing the pump, which I suspect will be the case, then we'll give them the go-ahead, pay our portions, and send His Highness the bill for the remainder.

I have no illusions about how this will be received, and I think it's going to be an ugly, tense few weeks or months.

This also means that our finances are going to take another unexpected wallop. According to my lease, my dear old mother is responsible for the provision of water, which includes pump maintenance, but she has never yet honored that clause of the agreement, and I don't expect she'll start now. Which means there will either be a long, miserable argument spanning days, after which she will grudgingly cave, bitching all the while, or I'll just end up eating the cost to spare myself the seething, impotent rage and yet another object lesson in how little value my mother places on my life and hating her guts for the rest of my bitter days.

Either way, let the games begin.