Cold Showers, Warm Neighbors

It's DAY 13 of no hot water in the Dynamite household.

I've been uncharacteristically quiet about this inconvenient and cold fact, but it's sometimes hard to find just the right words to describe inconvenient and cold facts.

Let's just say that for my birthday this year, a day that fell during this time of inconvenient and cold facts, I received:

• Car repairs: $800
• New glasses for every member of the family (except me): $700
• New hot water heater, after old hot water heater cracked and flooded the basement: $500
• Associated plumbing and electrical costs for new "European-style" eco-minded hot water heater model that your husband bought online but that NO PLUMBERS or ELECTRICIANS in the state of Connecticut have ever seen: Remains to be seen after importing plumber and electrician from somewhere in the EU
  

• Not having the ability to take a hot shower in the days after learning that a convicted child sex offender has moved into your neighborhood: Priceless
  

God how I love birthdays.

My children are filthy in the blackened feet and fingernails sense of the word. Fortunately for my daughter, I can say, "It's time to take a shower. Hop in the car." And off we go to my tennis club where a steamy hot shower awaits.

I've taken her three times in the past 13 days; you do the math. I believe she's only endured one cold shower at home, which was plenty enough for her.

My son, or at least the long-haired boy in my house who appears to be surrounded by a cloud of dust, has taken ONE cold shower and ONE cold sponge bath that I am aware of. He has taken ONE hot shower at his aunt's house. I believe that is the extent of his bathing these past 13 days.

As for me, I have taken three steamy hot showers at my tennis club in the past 13 days, three frigid showers of hell at home, and one icy cold sponge bath.

My husband? Frankly, at the moment, I don't particularly care. Ask me about his bathing habits during this inconvenient and cold time after we fly Dieter the electrician and Francois the plumber back to Europe, OK?

In other circumstances - though exactly what I can't imagine - all this might be very funny. I certainly was more inclined to laugh and say, "Hey - things happen!" in our first few days without a dishwasher or hot showers. But two weeks later, well...I'm about ready to venture across the street to my new ex-con child sex offender's place, extend my dirt-encrusted hand, and say, "Hey. Mind if me and my kids take a shower here?"

And in my perfect imaginary world, he'll say, "Da!" or "Oui!" And then he'll install our new hot water in minutes and we'll all live happily ever after. The end.