I don't know what books Jack read in school, but by the time I came to biology we were clear about environmental issues. My sophomore year I had to memorize the contents of book called 50 things we can do to save the environment for some kind of academic quiz contest. The only two I remember are to drive no faster than 55 mph and to save water. Maybe I subconsciously absorbed the rest and shaped my mostly responsible behavior after them, but I really took the water thing to heart. To watch someone leave the faucet running while having a conversation or when someone in the movies leaves the shower going while they answer the door in a towel - ooh, does my blood boil. Such a waste! I growl at the television and alarm the dogs.
But the victim of my insanity is my poor husband. I've barked at him so many times for walking away from running water that even now when I try and bite my tongue he hears my rant anyway and turns it off.
This morning wasn't one of those leisurely conversations over coffee mornings. It was begrudging and whiny. For me. He somehow manages to get up, get dressed and get breakfast on, regardless of the hours of actual sleep he had the night before. I am not so grown up.
So there I was four hours into what was supposed to have been an eight hour night but it was time to get up. He dressed and went out. I pulled the covers over my head. The water started running in the kitchen. I gritted my teeth and chanted "Sleep" over and over again. Our friend Colonel came in for breakfast. The water ran. Sluggo the Corgi came to see what was taking me so long. The water kept going. Whole minutes were going by. Gallons of potable, treated water down the drain.
"I can hear the water from in here, you know," I called from the bedroom to the kitchen. I had to yell over the sound of the whooshing.
"No you can't," he said. "It's sausage."
Oh.
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