The Hillbilly Chronicles (iii)

As you know, we live in a hellhole Hillbilly Dump. The day we arrived with our boxes to find the Titanic floating out of our bathroom and down the passageway was a dead give-away. Since then we’ve been trying our best to make a dent in the work to get the house lovable liveable. My poor hubby, Insanely Gorgeous Saint That He Is, works all day at the Bush Camp, only to go home at night and work some more. Slowly but surely we’ve been stripping our family bathroom… we removed the shower cubicle, bashed out the basin, plugged up the leaking pipes, drilled holes above the window for my new blinds, and then we got a bee in our bonnet and decided we may as well redo the entire bathroom while we’re at it. Pointless we just make holes to find the leaks, fix the leaks and still be left with a fugly bathroom at the end of it. So, now we are redoing it totally. New shower bath (very nifty new product!), new taps, new toilet and we have a really spiffy stone-hewn table-top mounted basin that we’ll be fitting. I am SEEEEEEEEWWWWWW excited, darling. Can’t wait to have a nice long soak in my new bathtub. I just need to keep reminding myself that this is the bush, in Africa, where everything takes longer to get done, warra warra fish paste and all of that. So I must be patient. Seems everything we undertake requires major patience. At least the view is spectacular, while I wait.
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So anyway. Last night. Oh. My. Word. There I am after supper, plonked on the couch beside the fireplace, enjoying a cuppa and watching The Apprentice (Martha Stewart edition, or whatever her name is) with the teevee volume on deafening, while my hubby used the grinder to chase holes into the bathroom walls for the new pipes for the new taps for my spiffy new bathroom. Et Cetera. Suddenly there is deathly silence in the house, followed by the deafening roar of waters gushing. “Liefie?” I call out tentatively, hoping for a “Don’t worry, it’s nothing” response. Instead I get a squeak. By the time I reached the bathroom I wished I’d brought goggles and a snorkel. Surely, I might have found Nemo in the newly installed lake in our bathroom. Needless to say, our dreams for a new bathroom have now become necessity. Which of course leaves me grinning from ear to ear. So you see – sometimes, this whole bush living thing with it’s rotten pipes, leaking taps, mouldy walls and shoddy workmanship can add up to something in your favour. I’m hoping the same is true for my infertility!