Machu ado about nothing

So what if dad never asked us along on his trip? Not even for courtesy’s sake.

So what if he’s busy traversing the Inca trail, and we imagine him standing in the silent city of Machu Picchu, thumping his chest and shouting, “I’m King of the World!” into the mist?

Just because he’s traveling in exotic parts and we're home, doesn’t mean that our lives are entirely bereft of adventure.

No sooner did dad leave for Peru last weekend that the water pipes at home coughed, gagged and breathed their last.

Normally, mom would have clicked her fingers and expected dad, had he been around, to magically solve the problem. However, being on her own, with dependents, over a three-day weekend, it took the woman well over a day to realize that the problem would not right itself with prayers alone.

In the last 10 years, the humans have never had occasion to enlist the services of a plumber, so the hunt began in the middle of a crisis, with mom trying to track down a plumber who (a.) would call her back and speak in plain English rather than Plumbese, and (b.) wouldn’t charge her the equivalent of an expedition to Machu Picchu only to let her know that her water softener was at fault and she needed to call them instead.

After gasping in disbelief at astronomical service charges quoted over the phone, mom finally invited Roto-Rooter home for $40. Two minutes after he arrived, the plumber blamed the water softener for the family's water woes and departed, wishing them a good weekend.

With only the kitchen sink in operation, mom was transported back to her growing years in India when the faucets usually ran dry, and she took her reluctant kids down memory lane with her.

Buckets were filled with tepid water and every last drop suddenly became more precious than the dregs of cookie dough ice cream in the freezer.

“See, you only need half a bucket of water to bathe in,” explained mom to the kids, hoping the experience would deter 15 minute long showers and letting the water run while washing hands and brushing teeth.

“I never took a shower when I was growing up,” continued mom. “We filled buckets of water in every bathroom and used whatever we had wisely. That’s why it’s very important you don’t waste water, OK?”

The children silently drank in mom’s ramblings, their American minds conjuring up visions of acute poverty and extreme destitution.

For three days the humans lived with dry water pipes, somewhat comforted by the fact that dad was also probably relying on wet wipes and fantasizing about running water somewhere on the Inca trail.

Never has mom waited with such impatience for a long weekend to pass.

Her first order of business Tuesday morning was to schedule another house call, and $365 later, the family now has running hard water. For another substantial sum (not including replacement parts), soft water will flow through the homestead pipes again in two weeks.

Meanwhile, we eagerly await the return of the intrepid explorer to rightly reclaim his spot as head of the house and settler of exorbitant household bills.

It probably would have been cheaper to take the whole family along on his trip.