A couple of days ago, as I was heading out (no doubt to
some happening party or something like that because I’m such a wild child eat), I saw this little notice that had been slipped under my door:
I actually did a double-take to make sure that I was reading right and that water supplies were going to be cut (or rather, “interrupted”) for five whole hours. In modern-day Singapore! Ok, I have to qualify that I’m not actually whining or being all #firstworldproblems about this. I was just surprised because I don’t remember something like this happening to me in recent (or even not-so-recent) memory.
Still, while it wasn’t a water-rationing exercise like in the days of ol’, the nett effect (that I wouldn’t have water to use at home for the few hours before I headed to church on that day) was the same. So, when the day arrived, I rushed to shower at 12.45pm and filled up a large bucket of water for washing hands/mouth/face/feet (hey, beggars can’t be choosers).
And then, satisfied with my amazing ability of forethought and preparedness, I sat back to relax and eat and do whatever else it is I do at home, safe in the knowledge that I’d have water if I needed it…only to discover on every single try in the next few hours that the water supply wasn’t cut.
After that, I spoke to my mum and she was all, like, “yeah you didn’t know, meh? It probably meant intermittent interruptions, not a total cease.”
CHEY. The pail ended up feeding mosquitoes only (don’t worry, I poured it away as soon as I could, cleaning my toilet in the process, so you don’t need to get all NEA on me!).