I will now go back to calling it a hose spigot.
So, big liars that we are, we got a house without a hose spigot.
The kids have gone about five years without a hose, which means no fun ever, no how. But a promise is a promise, so finally (after calling a plumber for an estimate to do it the right way) (eleventy million dollars) I figured out that you can use gravity and pressure and what not to siphon water out of the bathtub, through a hose, down the back stairs, and into a pool.
This ungratifying system even works, in a feeble way, with a water slide (and the poor kids don’t even realize the water is supposed to be gushing out in a fabulous, fun-tastic wave of SplashAction! What it does is limply burble a little, and they pretend to be puppy dogs, and line up to take turns licking it. I know, I know. This is why I don’t put my last name).
Anyway, the catch is that, in order to get the water flowing down hill through the hose, you have to get all the air out of it.
Yep, pregnant lady stands in the back yard, in full view of the constant line of bored truckers who barrel past our house . . . suckin’ on a hose.
I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I almost drowned only twice, when the water came through unexpectedly just when I was breathing in. (The kids thought it was hilarious, especially the retching part.) And I don’t believe in bacteria (oh, it’s this terribly dangerous stuff that’s absolutely everywhere, but it’s invisible, huh? Riiight), so that’s not a problem.
So today it’s 93 degrees out, and since I was up all night dreaming about bears (I love the third trimester) and I’m stupid-sleepy, we’re not driving anywhere, even to feel some air conditioning.
Why aren’t we in the pool?
Because I left the hose right where Mama Snake hatched forty million babies a few weeks ago.
Think about that, and then you start sucking on a hose.
yikes. isn’t that a neat trick, though? My parents used to put a cut-off hose into the gas tank of a full car and get some gas going into the tank of an empty one that way. maybe not snakelings, but water sure sounds safer!
Thanks for the laugh! And we must be living in luxury because we have two spillcocks! Not to mention three outside outlets. Woohoo!
Despite all of the joy it will bring, I will not tell my 12yo boy that it’s called a “spillcock.”
Oh my gosh, that’s hilarious! Thanks for the laugh.
I’m not going to go there but can I just say… the whole entry was about a spillcock, and you sucking on one?
Okay, my junior high moment has passed.
Sorry about the snake infestation, by the way. Yikes.
THANK YOU. I love this post.
Oh dear Lord. Simcha, there is only ONE other person this would happen to…ME! This is why I love you so much. By the way, we have a hose spigot (I don’t want to know what people native to the southeast–where I live– call it) and last week used it to “water inflate” (my neighbor coined that term. The new pool my daughter got for her birthday that comes complete with a little shower head and mini slide. My three formerly scared to death of shower children seemed to have no problem with this. I am beginning to suspect the problem lies more in being clean than the actual shower head spraying water.
Worse things, indeed.
I needed this laugh in the worst way today. I vow to work “spillcock” into a conversation somehow, some way today.
Ha! I didn’t think I could laugh harder at this, until I just read A Girl’s comment!
[…] On There Being Things Worse Than Being Hot: […]
[…] You may recall that our house has a hose problem. We now have a way of hooking up the hose, but I think our well tank was designed for an older, […]
[…] There are worse things than being hot: This ungratifying system even works, in a feeble way, with a water slide (and the poor kids don’t even realize the water is supposed to be gushing out in a fabulous, fun-tastic wave of SplashAction! What it does is limply burble a little, and they pretend to be puppy dogs, and line up to take turns licking it. I know, I know. This is why I don’t put my last name). […]