Yep, our pipes froze. Interestingly enough: the hot water, not the cold. I guess flushing the toilet overnight was enough to keep the cold water flowing.
Mindful of my Russian friends celebrating Christmas today, I share this Russian folk tale about the cold:
Abramtsevo museum-reserve in Moscow Oblast, Russia. Church of the Holy Mandilion. Jan. 2013. Photo by A. Savin via Creative Commons
A husband and newlywed wife are walking in the forest. He is hunting, and she is keeping him company for part of the way. Suddenly, she starts crying. “Don’t cry, dear,” the peasant consoles. “I’ll be back soon.”
“That’s not why I’m crying,” the wife says. “I’m crying because my feet are cold.”
“It’ll be okay,” my fiancé told me about our pipes. One way or another, it will be. I’m still thankful for home and heat and a roof over my head. We joined a gym yesterday. At least we have a place to shower.
Paraphrased from Aleksandr Afanasev’s Russian Fairy Tales. NY: Pantheon, 1945, 1973, p. 282.