Something about water…
My wife and I arrived home bone tired from the day. Passing by my father’s house, Mama informed us that our landlord went to them earlier and told them that we left the tap running. The water had been running for several minutes already and there is no one in the house, he said. So he had to turn it off from the main.
This may sound like stupidy of the first order from our part. But while the house we are now renting had been built with a water line, today is the first time that it had been serviced by the water utility. So who would blame us if we left the tap open all the time? For a long time, it was as useful as Toting Bunye. We paid it no heed whether its mouth was open or closed.
It has been almost six years since we lived in a house that was serviced with water. All this time, we have been guilty of contributing to the lowering of the water table deep under ground of the four houses we lived in since that time. When we were living in Sampaloc, the houses we rented were right beside the MWSS reservoir. Water was then super abundant and I remember it to be always cold. I loved to take a bath in that house.
Tonight, before entering our house, I turned the water main on. Inside, we found our bathroom floor caked with thick rust that gushed from the long useless tap. Sighing my desire to have an early rest away, I stripped down to my shorts and readied myself.
Water is pouring from the tap. Wonderful!
I first looked for the cleaning liquids in the cupboard. Then I splattered them on the bathroom walls and floor and on the toilet bowl like a modern artist does on the canvass. While waiting for the agents to penetrate the tiles’ littlest nooks and crannies, I opened the tap to full to flush all the rust away.
Then I started to rub like mad. All the hard water and grime that I have never gotten to clean thoroughly for lack of water, I scrubbed away. And then I scrubbed some more. The bathroom being small, I was done in no time.
Then I lit a perfumed candle and an incense stick. The bathroom smelled very nice.
But I wasn’t content yet. While the bathroom looked and smelled clean, it still didn’t feel clean. But I knew it was no longer the bathroom.
So I stripped naked. Lit a menthol cigarette, opened a Herman Wouk book and took a great dump. This part ends here. No details please.
After flushing my babies away, I washed my underwear. Then I rinsed it thoroughly. Water is no object this time.
Then I took a luxurious bath—for the second time today. No water from the showerhead yet. I did it the Pinoy way—with a dipper. But it felt so good. I lathered slowly and scrubbed vigorously. I used an antibacterial soap on my body and my wife’s facial scrub on my face. Then I rinsed thoroughly. Water is no object this time.
After toweling down, I asked my wife to clean my face with an astringent. She did it twice. While I have no illusions that my handsome mug would turn fair all of a sudden, I am quite confident that it is now cleanest than ever before.
Then I opened my laptop and wrote this.
Something about having water that makes one feel clean.
