There is no water in Hoboken right now. There is no flushing toilet, no running water. Zippo. Not in my apartment, not at the gym, not at the cafe where I’m currently sitting.
This is sort of ironic since I was at the gym this morning trying to decide whether to spend the better part of the afternoon cleaning my apartment or writing my book. Well, once I tried to flush to no avail and run my sink water to no avail and call my landlord to no avail, I called the police department and found out there is a water main break in Jersey City. They’re working on it. Yikes.
There was a moment of frustration before my smile broke through. I walked to the grocery store, bought two gallons of Poland Springs, and took myself a “European” bath (or whore’s bath, in my grandmother’s language) — a sink full of sudsy water, a wash cloth, a bath mat. Easy.
As was the decision about how to spend the afternoon. I can’t clean my floors without water. I can’t wash my dishes. Even if I dust mop, I can’t clean myself thoroughly afterwards. No brainer. Grab the laptop and go indulge your writer self.
She will love, love, love it.
