A couple of weeks ago, I arrived home from work to find the city water department had dug a deep hole between my yard and my neighbor's yard. I stopped and got the mail, which was right near where they were working, but no one said anything to me and I didn't think anything more about it.
It was about an hour later, when I go to get water from the dispenser in my refrigerator and nothing came out. My first thought was that one of the doors wasn't closed all the way. The fridge won't dispense water or ice unless both doors are completely shut. But no, both doors are closed. I try opening and shutting them again. Still no water.
I get a little panicked. I'm worried my refrigerator has developed an issue. I never gave a thought to the guys outside--not yet--because I'd had water within the first half an hour that I was home.
It was while I was panicking about my fridge that I remembered the city's water department. To test out this theory, I tried to run the water in my sink. Nothing. Okay, it's not just the fridge. Now I panicked in earnest because it was late and what if the water guys had left already? I rushed to the front door.
I see a water department guy and I ask if they're still working. Um, yeah, I was so blind in my worry that I missed the guy standing in the hole and the rest of the team doing whatever nearby. No wonder he looked at me like I was nuts. Oops. Well, what can I say? The idea of no water was terrifying and no one had said anything to me about turning off my water when I was just feet away from them.
It was about another hour before one of the guys rang the doorbell and told me I had water again. They'd put in a new line and a new meter, he said. I was so relieved that they weren't going to stop working (it was nearly 7pm by this point) that I forgot to ask why they did the work. Another oops.
I already knew I wouldn't have made a good pioneer, but this reinforces that knowledge. It also underlines the fact that if I ever have a chance to time travel, I'll be going to the future, not the past.
