...working in the kitchen, doing my thing, had to stop to take a leak; and the water in the toilet bowl looked like old tomato juice.
Me: Oh, no. I think I know what this means.
Finished what I was doing, flushed and saw more old tomato juice run into the bowl; washed my hands and went to the family room and told Mrs. Fungus what I had seen.
Put on my coat, went outside, saw--while standing at the end of the driveway--that the light rain was creating a little stream down the gutter on my side of the street, but there was a fair river on the other side. Nodded, because that's what I'd expected; but having discovered the Amazon River, I had to trace it to its source, and so I headed upstream.
Broken water main can lead to sinkholes and so I was wary of going too close to the curb; but finally I reached the source: a nice geyser (albeit a short one, maybe an inch and a half above ground level) and a good amount of detritus already in the street. Just north of the corner house's driveway.
Nodded again: I was right! Water main broke on the night before Christmas Eve!
Headed back to the bunker, called the non-emergency line, told the woman who answered the phone my name and address and that the water main on my street was broken. She said they'd send someone to have a look.
...what the hell is that damned water main made out of? Cottage cheese? Is it made of wood, like they still have in parts of New England? Paper mache? What is it made from that it keeps frickin' BREAKING?
Googe doesn't index my blog and I don't remember how many breaks occurred before, but I know it's somewhere near ten with this latest one. It might be more.
Well, it's not like I have to go anywhere tomorrow. We're planning to jaunt over to my mother-in-law's house, to drop off a tin of cookies and one of the pumpkin pies that are baking even as I write this, but we don't need to get all gussied up for that. Anyway, if the past is any guide, I expect they'll fix the water main tonight, anyway.
* * *
For the first time in my life, I made whipped cream from scratch. I had half a cup or so of heavy cream left after putting the pies in the oven, so I dumped it into the mixer bowl and turned the thing on, full blast. I had to stop to scrape the sides of the bowl, but after a few minutes, I had whipped cream! I didn't add enough powdered sugar, so it's not quite sweet enough, but it's for-real whipped cream from scratch, and not a can.
Caption: the genius ponders his creation.
* * *
Anyway, waiting for eggs to cool down after boiling; Mrs. Fungus wants deviled eggs, so I'm making them. I don't have an icing-spooger-thing, though, so she's going to have to make do with the filling being put into the eggs with a spoon.
The dough for the pecan tarts is warming up and soon I'll start making shells, probably while watching TV, and when that's done I'll start peeling apples for apple crisp.
It is, as they say, a party!