The art of kindergarten bandages and water shows

In my household, there is simply never a dull moment. You might be rolling your eyes right now, leaning back with your own coffee, and thinking, “What happened now?” It’s a fair question. Life here doesn’t nudge; it usually erupts.

Monday mornings are my Everest. I’m not entirely sure why, but I wake up feeling exhausted, like I’ve already run a marathon in my sleep. I push through the routine—the school run, the usual shuffle—while silently wishing for the school holidays. Two weeks to go. Just one and a half weeks of sleeping in. It feels like a shimmering mirage on the horizon.

The day was leaning toward “perfectly normal” until about 4:00 PM. That’s when the sound started. It was a rhythmic, high-pressure hiss, like a giant sprayer had been triggered nearby. Then came the shouting and the whistling.

My son, who was playing outside, came running in with that specific “you-have-to-see-this” energy. I stood up, walked out, and there it was: a pillar of water spraying high into the air. Luckily, it wasn’t in our yard, but it was close enough to feel personal.

It turns out the crew working on the pipes had accidentally dug into the old line—hence the water show. To fix their mistake, they did the only thing they could: they switched off the water. Just like that.

We laughed about it, waved at the dry taps, and said, “Goodbye water, hello cowboy bath.” If you’ve never had a cowboy bath, consider yourself lucky. It involves using as little water as possible, a cloth, and soap to clean your entire body. It’s cold, it’s humbling, and it’s definitely not the most fun way to spend an evening. My son, however, thought it was a “party.”

There’s a certain lack of common sense that comes with these roadworks. They damage the old pipes, then fix them as they work. They hit electricity cables, and suddenly we’re sitting in the dark for three hours. And don’t even get me started on the internet issues from a few weeks back. It feels like they are just digging up everything and damaging things that don’t even belong to them.

Cooking was a breeze, but the dishes? They could wait until tomorrow. My husband and I decided to hold out for a real shower, hoping the water would return before we turned into actual cowboys. My husband went out to check on the progress, finding the crew still battling the pipe they’d sabotaged.

Around 8:00 PM, the taps finally coughed back to life. I was so happy I waited. But the universe wasn’t done with me yet.

A few hours later, I had an incident with a standing fan I’d bought from a Chinese shop. I won’t go into the gory details, but I managed to cut two of my fingers, trying to “start” the fan blades manually. Don’t ask. Just imagine. Now, I’m walking around with colorful bandages stuck around them. I look like I still go to kindergarten. It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Then came Tuesday. Still tired. I had a meeting with the Mayor, and the first thing he said was, “I am exhausted.” It was funny because I was feeling exactly the same, but I didn’t mention it. We had things to do. We had a to-do list to clear. We had to take over the world—one website at a time.

On the way to fetch my son, my brain must have still been in a fog. I dropped him off and made my way home. I made a mistake and drove right in front of someone. I felt terrible! I waved my hands frantically to apologize. I honestly didn’t see him; it felt like he came out of nowhere.

For a second, I wanted to turn around, follow him to the mall, and apologize properly. Then I thought better of it. I pictured myself getting knocked out or losing a tooth in a roadside confrontation, and decided to just carry on home with my black eye only existing in my imagination.

When I finally reached the school gate in the afternoon, I got an earful. My son was upset. I had forgotten to put his juice in his bag, and he spent the entire drive home telling me how thirsty he was, just to prove his point. He also wasn’t thrilled that I’d packed a fork instead of a spoon for his yogurt. Apparently, eating yogurt with a fork is where he draws the line. I was definitely out of it this morning.

Despite the complaints and the bandages, I did manage one victory: I conquered the laundry mountain. With the sunshine finally out and the water running, I tackled the pile that had been growing during the rainy days.

But as I sit here now, replaying the “aquarium” office, the cowboy baths, and the thirsty walk home, I realized I am just tired. My body is telling me the same thing the Mayor said this morning.

I’m going to bed early tonight. I’m going to rest, heal my kindergarten fingers, and forget about work and chores for a few hours.

Things change, pipes burst, and sometimes you pack a fork for a spoon job. And maybe that’s the point. We aim for the perfectly managed day, but we survive on cowboy baths and colorful bandages.

And it is only Tuesday!!!