Tuesday, September 15th, 2020

I wake up in the morning, looking forward to easily taking a shower. I’m excited that the faucet worked last night. The water goes on again well. When I try to turn it off, though, it fails, in the same way as it had yesterday morning. I step out, frustrated. I put some clothes on, then send another text to the landlady. After a few minutes, she hasn’t answered. I have to go to work. I text her again to tell her that I’m heading out, but that I’ll leave the door unlocked. I leave. About three blocks from my house, I see someone pass me wearing a mask. I realize that I’ve forgotten mine. I head back again. Right when I get in, she calls. She seems to be in traffic. She wants to know if I’m home. I am. She is talking quickly, in a mix of English and Hebrew. I can barely follow her. She tells me to go turn off a faucet outside. I don’t understand where it is. She repeats herself a few times. I gradually figure out the words that I couldn't make out: garbage can, parking spot, water meter. Her voice guides me to a hidden gate in the outside wall, between the main gate and where we stow the trash can. There’s a spigot inside. I also note that there’s a cable connection in there that doesn’t look all that solid. I turn the spigot all the way off. I head back to my apartment. The water is still running. I may still be misunderstanding something. Neither she nor I can figure out what. She has to get off the phone. I go to work. A couple of hours later, she sends me a text: “The faucet is fixed.” I thank her. When I get home, I turn it gingerly. A bit later, I think of testing it and taking a real shower. If it fails again, though, I would have to wake them. They are early risers, getting up at about 5 AM, and I don’t know when they go to sleep. I’ll see how it goes in the morning.