The past few days have been very rainy here in the northeast.
In another life and another time, I used to watch city dwellers rush by the windows of a restaurant or cafe, their feet soaked from failed leaps over puddles, laughing as their umbrellas directed more water on them than off them as they navigated the wet streets.
These days, I watch water-logged chipmunks dash about my back door and a shiny-wet gopher who clearly did not stash anything tasty for a rainy day and must forage in the streaming weeds for a snack.
Or, he just likes the rain. As do I.
There was an extreme water shortage when I was a very little girl. It was suggested that we keep our bath water for flushing, not let the water run while we brushed our teeth and reported anyone who opened a hydrant to the FBI immediately. This made a big impression on me and I have been conscious of water usage ever since.
Seth has tried to reason with me by reminding me about the relevance of the the water cycle (yes, the one we learned about as kids).
He patiently reminds me that the water we use is absorbed into the ground, goes through a magical process described to us in fourth grade and is reused....again and again and again.
|I did not pee on peasants!|
I didn't buy it as a kid and certainly do not buy it now.
Back then, they tried to convince me that the very same water I was using was part of the limited and permanent water supply that has been around since Henry the VIII was peeing off the turret of his castle and onto the heads of the peasants below.
What? Even longer than that?
Evaporation? Condensation? Precipitation?
Please. I have never heard anything so ridiculous.
When you run water into your sink, flush your toilet, throw the dregs of your iced tea into a potted plant, that water is gone, baby, gone.
To think different, would be insane.
Once it leaves "the sky," it swirls down the drain and disappears forever, flowing through the layers of the earth and into some sort of holding tank where it is never heard from again. Not even a post card. There's your damn water cycle.
So, if anyone ever dares tell you different, you have three choices: You can immediately punch them in the eye, just smile and nod condescendingly or try to reason with them and request they turn off the water while they brush their damn teeth because they are wasting water.
If they attempt to teach this myth to your children in school, no need, however, for anything as drastic as home schooling. Lots of stuff they teach them there will be okay. Just explain to them that the water cycle is completely preposterous and let them read this post when they're old enough.
You're very welcome.
But, really, there is no need to thank me. I consider this a public service blog and will continue to deal with hot button topics as they arise.
Next month's agenda:
1. Do blondes really "have more fun?"