I awoke this morning to the gentle and soothing sound of flowing water. My grandparents used to have a few acres in Buena Vista, Colorado with a humble creek where they once took my brother and I to pan for gold. We never found any, but I do remember that peaceful, infinite stony stream. What I was hearing this morning, however, was the sound of a broken water pipe under the sink flooding our home.
I rushed out to turn off the water source and disconnect the hose and when I did, when my thong'd foot stepped off our trailer stoop, it landed in a pond. I have no idea how long the water had been running, hollowing out our home like an aluminum river bed. The trickle of water outside was also peaceful, if one could disassociate it from the thought of homelessness. It was a double-axled homage to Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water. I like to call our's Are-You-Serious?-Water.
So, mobile RV repair is on the way and they couldn't have been more pleasant on the phone. The RV repair shop in Corpus Christi told us that the Airstream's previous owner had replaced our plumbing with cheaper, incorrect hoses. At the time we agreed that if it ain't broke... and that we'd cross that bridge when we got there. Ironically, now we actually need a bridge to cross.