Or, how conscious parenting – and all my other noble intentions – got sidetracked by my leaky plumbing.
“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.” – Thomas Fuller, Gnomologia, 1732
I tend to think of myself as a water person. My favorite vacations are invariably near (or on) the ocean. It is perhaps the one place on this planet where I know that I will relax.
When I am home, in my typically landlocked condition, I find that I crave water.
Regardless of the season, I want to be at the beach, now. When this option is not available to me, my swimming pool keeps me sane. When it is too cold for the pool, there is the hot tub on the back porch. When all else fails, my bathtub must suffice.
(I just realized – I’ve spent a great deal of my disposable income, over the years, keeping myself wet. What’s up with that?)
And then, there’s always that tiny fountain in my meditation corner. My children gave it to me for Christmas last year, because I told them I needed it.