Even when I’m wide awake, our doorbell annoys me. So you can only imagine how I feel when the doorbell rings several times at four-thirty-five-A.M. on the first day of a long weekend.
Someone rang our doorbell at an unearthly hour last night. And every time they rang the buzzing and clanking would go on for eons, the cacophony interrupting my dreams (of awkwardly sitting in the VIP section of a glamorous folk music festival – seriously!). I don’t know how my family managed to sleep through the noise but on the fourth ring I shot out of bed feeling murderous and answered the phone/door thingamajig. A man was trying to explain (to sleepy me) that the water-pipe outside our house was leaking and there was water everywhere. I had no choice but to pull on a sweater and make my way downstairs to investigate.
I stood in the living room peeking out of the window. Sure enough, water was spurting from at least three different holes in the pipe and flooding the small, tiled courtyard (for lack of better word) outside our house. The water was clearly flowing out onto the street and probably creating a pleasant little creek… or just annoying people. The thing is, we got home really late that night and we didn’t get to bed before 1:30 A.M. So I’m not quite sure when this pipe broke or how long we’ve been watering the neighborhood but it was clearly going on for a while.
At this point I was more alert and the good ol’ paranoia was kicking in. Was this a trap? Was someone waiting for me outside, lurking in the shadows? I stood there for a minute deliberating, recalling scenes from all the thrillers I’ve seen. Always looking for adventure, I decided to go outside and turn off the tap. I armed myself with a large kitchen knife, unlocked the front door and stepped out into the cold.
The theme song from Jaws was playing in my head. I almost dropped my knife as I padded in the cold water, trying to make my way to the main tap without slipping. I turned the tap but the water continued to gush out. I was about to go back into the house for some duct tape but at a cool breeze and the sound of footsteps (whether real or imagined, I’ll never know) spooked me. I lost all courage and ran back inside. My heart hammering, I bolted the door and returned to my post at window – cold, wet and nervous. There was no one there. Embarrassed and annoyed, I ignored the pipe and went back to bed where I tossed and turned until 7 am.
I think it was pretty considerate of me to let everyone sleep in while I dealt with potential criminals, risking my life for a broken pipe. I finally woke my parents up so they could take care of their house (the one that decides to fall apart when everyone’s sleeping). A plumber showed up an hour later and
uglifyied fixed it. And I obviously lived to tell the tale of my paranoia at 4:35 am.