Everyone had a rough night last night. Sam was up until about 4:30 a.m., despite dual parenting efforts to get him to sleep. Needless to say, I was still sleeping when I heard a RAP-RAP-RAP-RAP at the door at 12:15 p.m. I thought I was dreaming at first, so it took me a couple minutes to figure out what was going on. When I finally got downstairs, the knocker was gone. But I heard a strange sound, kind of like a fizzing sound, a whooshing sound. I opened up the front door to see what it was, when I saw water pouring out the front of the house, drowning the azalea bushes. I didn’t believe it. I walked out onto the (wet) porch and looked down. There, like a fire hydrant on a hot day in NYC, was water shooting out of a burst pipe. I just stood there. I didn’t know what to do, who to call. 911? That didn’t seem right. Yes, it’s kind of an emergency, but not one that requires paramedics or firefighters. So I did what any barefoot, half asleep, pajama-clad girl would do. I went in the house and put some shoes on. I went back outside and, sure enough, the water was still there. I was not, in fact, dreaming this whole scenario. I look up and down the street, and that’s when I saw him. The Dominion guy in his truck. I went (in my pajamas, mind you) down the street and waved at him. He jumped out of his truck and said, like we were old friends and didn’t need actual words to communicate, “I know! I heard a funny sound and knocked on your door, but you weren’t there.” So I, in the spirit of feeling like we’d known each other forever, said, “Oh, I was up all night with the baby and was still sleeping. I thought I was dreaming when you knocked.” I let him in through the garage and he found the turn-off-the-water-in-the-front-of-the-house valve in the basement. I thanked him profusely, and he tipped his hat to me. Just like an old movie. And then he was gone.
Thank you, Dominion Man, wherever you are.