Backhoes at Midnight and other Small Gratitudes.

For the last week or so, Old Man Winter has had a firm grip on the throat of greater Portland. That's not what I'm writing about, but it's an important detail you need to know.


In the wee hours of December 7th, 1:30 a.m. to be exact...I was awakened by a sound that I can't actually describe, other than I was pretty sure something was physically coming apart in my building. My brain had given up trying to incorporate the noise into my dreams and finally forced me awake to deal with it. The source appeared to be the bathroom which was not comforting and the fact that the cat was sitting outside the door with that "It's in there and I'M not going in" look on his face wasn't helping either.

Now remember, this cacophony dragged me straight out of REM so I was not processing things too clearly. At first it looked like the sound was coming from the toilet...and then to my horror, I realized that the sound was in the WALLS. From floor to ceiling my apartment was belching and heaving and leaving me to wonder when whatever was IN the wall was coming OUT.

I realized that the sound must be the pipes either trying to freeze or trying to thaw although I couldn't remember the last time I heard water create a ruckus on its way to a solid state. I turned the tap...trickle. I turned the shower...nothing.

OMG. Frozen pipes...frozen pipes mean cracked pipes which means thawed pipes mean ceiling flooding.

All right....don't panic...DON'T PANIC!!

Quick Lisa, plug in your brain. What to do? Right. Open the taps.

Done.

Now what? Call anyone who might care and leave a voice mail. Good...let's do that. Don't sound panicked. Don't sound crazy. Right. Let's make sure we leave a calm thoughtful voice mail about FROZEN PIPES!!!!

On the way to find phone numbers for those about to be unfortunate enough to get my call, I heard another noise coming from outside and to my amazement...There was a backhoe in the middle of the street with a brand new 15 foot wide trench wide open along with some utility trucks and a small collection of city workers peering in to the hole under bright lights. Now...that equipment and that hole were NOT there when I went to bed at 11:30...I didn't know that kind of utility mobilization was even possible.

And all at 15 degrees.

I was immediately relieved to know I didn't have frozen pipes, I didn't have to leave crazy-lady voice mails in the middle of the night, and I could just go back to bed.

Then true to form...just as you really need to microwave something as soon as the power goes out...guess what happens when you realize your water's been shut off? Yep...you have to pee...bad.

I resisted the urge and in just 15 minutes or so...my access to the elixir of life was restored. The "filling" of the building made a sound twice as terrifying as the "void," but I just held my breath, closed the taps that had burst back on, quelled the fears of my daughter who awoke during the melee, and pee'd.

*sigh*

And as I drifted back to sleep to the soft "beep-beep-beep" of heavy equipment in reverse, I said a little prayer of thanks for some tireless Lake Oswego city water workers who dug out my street in the middle of one frozen night.