One Gallon

I’ve learned exactly how much boiling water I need to bathe: one gallon. And that covers washing and conditioning my hair, washing my body and even shaving if I feel the need. How do I know this? We’ve been having problems with the water heater.

First, we ran out of gas and didn’t have the money to buy a new tank full (all the gas here is propane and is sold in tanks). So we were either heating water on the stove in order to take a bath, or taking cold showers. Some times we switched the tank for the kitchen with the tank for the bathroom so we could more easily heat bathing water.

Finally, we got some cash and bought a new tank. Hot showers again!

A few weeks later a problem developed with the heating element for the bathroom water heater. Sergio actually did some work one day and bought a new element and replaced it. But something was wrong still. Gas wasn’t coming out. After a bit of wrangling with it all, Luis and Sergio realized that the new gas tank was hooked up to the kitchen and the old tank was hooked up to the bath and was now empty.

Once again we bought a new tank of gas and hooked it up. But there was still something wrong. The heating element wasn't working right. Luis and Sergio looked at it for a while, and I assumed that Sergio, with all his extra time during the day, would investigate and get the thing fixed. I mean, no one *wants* to bathe out of a bucket, at least not for very long if they can help it.

But no. I have no idea if Sergio has never gotten off his lazy ass to figure out and fix the problem, or if the problem is too expensive to fix at the moment.

So we are back to heating water on the stove.

So I boil a gallon of water and add it to about 3 or 4 gallons of cold tap water in a larger bucket and wash like the Old West Pioneers did. It’s humbling and frustrating. It’s humbling because I’ve realized just how fortunate we are in the States. Perhaps not everyone in the States can afford to pay for their water and gas bills every month. But that water and gas is automatically pumped into their houses, they don’t have to wait for the gas truck to drive by and hope they have the cash on hand to buy a tank of gas. They don’t have to open a tap to fill a cistern, then pump that water up to a tank on the top of the house, and rely on gravity to provide pressure. Water is pumped to you. What a fabulous concept. And humbling to live without it.

And it’s frustrating because I don’t understand why Cynthia and Sergio put up with living this way. They both have jobs which pay them fairly well, but they never have any money. I would understand that if there was something to show for their lack of money. Like a new stove, or a working water heater, or some nicer furniture, or food in the refrigerator. But we live in this house as if we are poor. At the moment Luis and I are relying solely on the money we are bringing in from the carpinteria (which isn’t much), so in a way we are poor. But Cynthia and Sergio have consistent income and they can’t hold themselves above the water line.

No use in thinking about it too long.