Thoughts on a mysteriously busted water pipe.

Thursday night, 6:13pm. November 19th, 2015.

When a water pipe in your front yard bursts, it sorta makes you reevaluate what’s really important. 

You’re standing in that entryway of the house, tracing the intricate patterns on the hardwood floor as the water outside shoots into the air without any sign of faltering. The lights in the bedrooms are fully raised, as are the blinds of the windows looking out, since there is no other way to illuminate that particular path. The lamps in the front yard are dead.

You have wasted away an afternoon, putting off those things of extreme importance that stare you down with eyes of accusation. It’s just one of those days.

A busted water pipe turned off means that the taps have nothing more to offer.

That one small breakage means something:

contents that drove the pipes

had been lost trickling

down through pebbles

into the

mud.

You find yourself experiencing the same feeling you get when the milk you’re using for your morning coffee has boiled over in the microwave… and the carton sitting in the fridge is dry.

You curse yourself for being too lazy to toss out that milk carton right away, for it only taunts you now.

There’s a feeling of disappointment settling itself in your gut, but seeing that pipe pouring out its insides also made you forget what you have to do for the next day and the next and the next… instead, it forced you to think about what you’re going to do to save yourself in that moment. Your eyelids are stuck open and your brain is in overdrive. Right. Now.

The writing assignment due in sixteen hours is not going to make or break your future.

The test you have tomorrow is not going to define the rest of your life.

That isn’t to say that the best effort isn’t in order, but often, more important matters will rear their ugly heads for your time and attention.

And sometimes, those more important matters are the farthest thing from ugly.


Free-write in response to something that threw everyone in the household for a bit of a loop.

An immense amount of thoughts go through my head as events play out, and I am always itching to be able to remember them for later. I wish there was a way to record every single thought that goes through my head in times like these, but unfortunately, the mess that results from frenzied scribbling of pen on paper is the closest I’m ever going to get.

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