Dear Pastors and Wives of the local Baptist Association,
Hot water is a luxury. Cold water is available to the masses. Last night, I was the masses. That might explain why I showed up to your annual Pastors and Wives Christmas dinner dressed like the defunct hippy.
In my defense, I didn't KNOW it was your annual Christmas dinner. I just knew that my MIL invited Favorite and I to eat a meal she had cooked for a group of people so we wouldn't have to find food. It's not like we're scavengers. We've just had an interesting set of life experiences in the last couple of days.
Despite those interesting circumstances, you should know that I now have hot water and no longer have to contemplate the various sinks in which I can pee because we got a toilet installed, too. Of course, none of those things explain why I showed up to your Christmas dinner. But if you really want that story, I'll start from the beginning.
I didn't really want to live like a viking. That was Favorite's idea. Unfortunately, viking-hood was thrust upon me. By whom? Well, by the trailer, actually.
See, a hot water pipe busted sometime last week. We're not really sure when it happened, but I noticed it on Saturday. I was in the shower washing my hair and, all of a sudden, icicles came out of the shower head and pelted me. I was being attacked by a force I couldn't fight. The only thing I could do was scream.
Favorite, being the protector that he is, jumped up and ran into the bathroom and said, "What?! What's wrong?! Are you OK?"
"Whoo. I'm fine...but the water is COLD! I don't think our hot water is working."
Favorite responded, "Well, we've got a leak. I noticed it yesterday. I'll see what I can do later."
Unfortunately, later never really came.
In our defense, it's difficult to work on two separate projects at once, and since we have no intention of staying in the trailer, we decided to throw our efforts to the house.
So last night, we decided it would be in our best interest to move our bed and sleep up there so we have access to hot water. On the flip side, however, my husband informed me that our lack of trim, closet organizers, grout, sink faucets, flooring (in the laundry room) a banister and other odds and ends meant we weren't going to be living comfortably in the house. Nope, we have to live like vikings...vikings who carry their belongings out and don't leave anything in the normal places...like drawers.
But vikings can't be bothered with things like food preparation--even though they get hungry.
So I just want you to know that I put on the only pants available to me at the time. I'm sorry they were fleece camo. I realize that's not exactly festive enough for the prestigious occasion you were hosting last night. I'm also sorry that the only shirt I had to wear was the blaze orange one they gave me for Project Graduation last year. Vikings work with what they've got, you understand.
I did want to let you know that the food was excellent, and I really appreciate the obviously sorrowful looks you gave me and Favorite as we walked in the door. The good news is I'm going to be ok.
Vikings can take care of themselves.
Crys, the newly crowned viking princess of Happy House's Holiday Ho-Ho Farm.
PS. I'll have you know that while you were all pitying my condition, our "friends," Pastor Mark and his wife Mandy, were laughing hysterically at our misfourtune. What would Jesus do, indeed!