Living Dangerously

I apparently like to live on the wild side. You wouldn't know this by looking at me as I do a pretty good job of keeping the wild child hidden from public view. My car gives off the impression of being tame until you take its age into consideration along with the outrageous number on the odometer.

My job is as mild-mannered as they come. Greet visitors. "Welcome! How may I help you?" Answer phones. "Thank you so much for calling. Do let us hear from you again." Perform typing and date entry tasks for anyone who asks. "Busy, why no! I can answer phones with my left foot as I type, no problem!"

I'm generally asleep by 10 p.m. regardless the day of the week. Up by 6. A rested body is a happy body.

Dullsville.

So where does this wild side appear? Once a month, like clockwork, on a Saturday afternoon I pull out the foils, bottles, wands and potions that keep my graying locks looking youthful and sun-kissed. No, I have not added pink tips or purple lowlights. It still looks tame. Well, tame is not a word I use for this mane, but the color is not outrageous.

I live dangerously by doing something on a Saturday afternoon that requires water running through the pipes of this house. After 5 months I have learned that everybody in this complex either does their laundry on Saturday afternoon, or has a child who stands in place and flushes the toilet repeatedly for whatever hours I need to rinse my hair.

We have one well, one generator, one pump, for 48 or so houses. It amazes me that the facilities can work just fine all month long, but let me put some chemicals strong enough to cause permanent damage on my hair and the system breaks down.

The first time the pump broke down there wasn't enough water flowing to create the pressure needed to get up to the shower head. There was enough of a trickle at the kitchen sink to get the color out of my hair. I was so relieved, as a search of the house hadn't turned up any partially-drunk water bottles sitting at any of the three spots where I normally park my carcass. When did I get so neat?

Yesterday as I stood in the shower, the power went out. Since it was afternoon, I wasn't concerned. Until the water pressure began to drop rapidly. Wait, wait! I still have conditioner in my hair! I managed to get enough of the goop out before the last drops fell. I survived another Saturday in Adventureland.

It has occurred to me several times that, if I am not careful, the water in the toilet tank is going to be the only thing available to rinse my hair. I wonder if it is going to come to that before I get smart enough to put a vat of water on the stove before I pull out the bottles and potions. When am I going to get smart enough to try doing my hair on another day?