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Fountains where they shouldn’t be

Water is amazing isn’t it?

It’s our life source. It’s quiet. It’s loud.

It belongs in the ocean. In the sky. In the rivers and creek beds. In our eyes and our bodies.

But it certainly does not belong on the bathroom floor.

I’ve never seen so much water shoot out of a sink before, out of the place where the hot water handle is supposed to be. I’ve never had that kind of adrenaline run through my body before. And I’ve never felt so frozen and so unable to do anything in such an awfully panic-inducing moment.

In just an hour,  we dumped bucket after bucket of water from the sink to the tub. I made shouty panicked phone calls at people who put me on hold and told me they couldn’t help me at all. I looked in the water closet 4 times before my eyes finally separated the white shut-off valves from the white water pipes and got the river to stop.

The boyfriend and I wrung out towels into the tub and a plastic bin, hunched over for another hour, trying to clear the water from places it didn’t belong, until our hands felt too crooked to continue. We made nervous, adrenaline fueled conversation. Or at least, I talked to fill the strange silence in the wake of the roaring sink fountain.

After the pool in the bathroom looked like a tile floor again, we assessed the rest of the damage. My stacks of books found hurried refuge on the bed, as the sea had spread into the carpet, slowly seeking every corner it could find.

We laid in the middle of the floor and let the nervous laughter escape in manic bursts.

I’m eternally thankful for moments of clarity and humor amidst the madness.

And I’m very thankful I never have to go through it alone.

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