I Would Walk 500 Miles

I walked home from work today. After three years at the same office (conveniently located at the corner of pizza and crack), I had not once made the 10.4 km trek home on foot. And this little fact was starting to disturb me.

When I left work this afternoon, I knew today was my chance. It was mild. It was still quasi-daylight. And I was wearing practical shoes.

So I set out. And walked the ugly route. Past the flirtatious homeless men, the drug-dealers mid-deal, the mangy dogs. But even in the bleakness, there were little pockets of children playing, friends laughing, cafés buzzing with activity. I felt like part of my city, both the observer and the insider.

It was refreshing, head-clearing and invigorating. I plowed into a massive tuna salad and started mapping out a productive evening upon returning home. And then things came crashing down.

The hot-water tank burst in the basement. And because of the leaky situation, even the cold water must remain off until mid-morning tomorrow. I happen to leave for work well before mid-morning.

I have no water. None. Apparently I can use the laundry tub in the basement to collect some cold water, as it has a direct hookup. But that's it.

It's odd how paralyzing the lack of tap action can be. I actually don't know what to do with myself. Nor do I have an early-morning strategy. Other than discomfort.

Note to self: Do not go for a long power-walk across a smog-filled city if there is no possibility of a shower in the near future. Oh, and be psychic.

Off to fetch a pail of water....