Chris and Uncle Benny arrived in the wee hours of Friday morning and promptly fell into bed. They awoke mid-morning to the music of the plumber busily completing the installation of the new shower. "You're good to go," he said. "But you can't use it until tomorrow morning. Things need to set." There was a bit of whining from our house guests. But after all, we had been without said shower for three weeks. They were only on day two.
Bright and early Saturday morning The Kid, eagerly anticipating the bliss of a hot shower, headed for the bathroom. He was greeted with a paltry drip, drip, drip when the shower was turned on. How could this be? He fiddled, adjusted and fiddled some more. Finally a decent flow was obtained and he quickly hopped in. The boys decided they would fish first and get their showers at the end of the day.
Fast forward eight hours. The boys have returned from a day spent fishing on the lake, in 90 degree heat followed by an hour of fish cleaning. They were hot, sticky, and smelled of fish, definitely in need of a shower. As they approached the cottage from the lake the unthinkable happened. The power went out. No power, no water. (When you live in the country with a well power is needed to pump the water out of the well.) They waited. And waited. And waited. Around 1 AM they gave up and fell into bed hotter, stickier and still smelling of fish.
The first thing Sunday morning Uncle Benny jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Power had been restored sometime over night and he was determined to be the first one in the shower. But it was not meant to be. Drip, drip, drip was all that new shower could muster. There was more fiddling, adjusting with a little cursing thrown in, but it did little to increase the flow. It was then that their survivor genes kicked in. Uncle Benny grabbed a bucked from the garage and filled it to the brim with hot, steamy water. He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes latter and announced that if one was prudent one bucket would do the trick.
But it was Chris who won the day on creativity.
He removed the screen from the kitchen window, headed outside, and lathered up. The sprayer from the kitchen sink was passed to him and the rinse cycle began.
The oohs and ahhs that spewed forth from his lips as the warm water washed away the dirt and grime of the previous three days was melodious. And he was no longer malodorous.
There is a little MacGyver in everyone.