We were well into our third day of no water before I began to notice harbingers of coming wetness (not as erotic as it sounds). Usually I know when we are being granted a few more gallons by the trickling sound that echos from inside the empty tinaco, but this time it was the faucet near the meter which started a light stream when I turned the handle. Didn’t want to press my luck so I went on about my food gathering mission (what men call grocery shopping). When I returned the Casa Fisherrero Compound was abuzz with talk of washing dishes and faces and such. Now here we are in the early evening of our first day with the most precious of all fluids flowing freely again, well, maybe not that freely.


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