Though spring officially started some weeks back, and it’s been warm during the days, especially if you stand outside, we have not acknowledged springtime at the Hacienda till today. We did that in a number of ways.
We took the goose-down comforter off the king bed, replacing it with something lighter. I have switched from nighttime T-shirts to a tank top. The tower fan was moved from its winter home in a closet into the downstairs bedroom. And, perhaps most significantly, I have uncovered and connected the cooler upstairs, which we use to blow nicer air while we watch Netflix and eat our supper salads.
Springtime is most dreadful upstairs in the evenings. On rare occasions, we’ve actually abandoned our nighttime routine, usually in May, and fled downstairs where it’s significantly cooler because it’s downstairs and has higher ceilings.
It’s now that we start praying for the rainy season. Alas, it won’t start till June, no matter the prayer level. God’s mind is focused elsewhere.
Driving home from downtown around 6 p.m. today, I pulled the Honda into the Hacienda just as I remembered that I needed to stop at the water office on the neighborhood plaza two blocks away to pay the water bill. This presented a dilemma: Drive back the two blocks, which would be silly, or just walk back. So I walked.
My water bill is 70 pesos a month, which is about $3.50 U.S. It is not metered. It’s a set amount the entire neighborhood pays. We use the water for everything, including drinking after that portion passes through the filtration system installed beneath the kitchen counter.
I always pay five months in advance for convenience. The woman who mans the water office, which is only open the last two weeks of each month, from 5 to 7 p.m., is the wife of Abel the Deadpan Yardman, my gardener.
At times, it’s almost like living in Mayberry. Except people don’t smile as much.