There’s a nice strong spring pissing about two gallons of water per minute out of the side of the hill, which might roughly translate to: the Crapshack will be flowing. We’re looking into hand-dug wells, which seem like the under-radar way to fly around it. And a recent experience being bucked off the mechanical bull of a two-man auger has us in decent shape to operate the basics.

(A sidenote: if you click the link to the auger and look at those two guys, patiently drilling away at the earth as if there’s nothing to it, know that it’s a TRAP! Augers like this are designed for men whose bellies protrude enough to rest atop the handles and provide extra stability so that when the drillbit becomes lodged on a rock, you both don’t go flying down the hill while the drill continues rotating unsupported in some goddamned science fiction IT’S ALIVE scenario.) But back to it– we’ll have running water!

To celebrate, we went out and promoted ourselves a sink. It’s charmingly dumpy in looks, isn’t it? We found it at the side of the road freshly disposed of by the local vegan B&B, about which some off-color jokes regarding what may have been an imagined mild essence of tabouli lurking about. And if you know anything about my general dietary preferences, which I’m sure you do, you know that it’s no more off-color than anything else about me.

And the sink may be a dumper, but we got ourselves a whole pile of sink bling, of which this is only some.

These came from the Paula Pile, and will give the whole outfit a veneer of class. Even if we never, ever manage to scrub, bleach, or scour the tabouli smell out of the thing.