Regular visitors to this humble site are no doubt aware of my running battle with those who deliver municipal services, particularly the removal of sewage and the delivery of water. But for those who are new, just be aware that, due to permafrost, there are no pipes connecting the houses up here with water mains or sewers. Consequently, both water and sewage are contained in large plastic tanks which must be refilled/emptied on a regular basis, the operative word being "regular".
Christmas 2005 was a fiasco. An hour before a magnificent turkey was ready and guests to arrive, we ran out of water. No water to boil potatoes, no water to wash turkey grease-encrusted hands and dishes, and certainly no water to make orange juice required for traditional Christmas screwdrivers. We couldn't even borrow water from the neighbours since everyone was in the same position. The turkey had to be removed still slightly undone and refrigerated, and guests quickly phoned to inform them of the delay.
At that point I vowed not to be caught in the same position ever again.
This year royal edict went out in the house that no clothes were to be washed, no toilets to be flushed, and no showers to be taken until after Christmas dinner and the start of my post-prandial hibernation, from which I would only stir at the sound of the sewage truck backing up to my house.
Unfortunately, we had a Quisling or two in our midst, and the "sewage full" light came to life a good four hours before chow time. "Sewage full", BTW, also means "water cut off" since the designers of this house's plumbing figured that most people would still be pouring water down the drains and flooding the sub-flooring with raw sewage unless they were physically prevented from using a drop of fresh water.
But this time, we ran out of water so early that we were able to mooch off the neighbours, probably causing them to run out of water as a consequence.
In any event, Christmas dinner went off with very few hitches. Our guests came, consumed and departed - many with their jackets placed over their shoulders so they wouldn't smudge their jacket sleeves with turkey grease. This morning, however, we have mountains of unwashed dishes and unrefrigerated leftovers occupying every square centimetre of counter top, table top and chair top.
I guess I'll go back to bed until I here the sound of the sewage truck. Then I'll wait another hour or two until someone has broken down and tackled that mess.