When Boston lost access to drinkable tap water, I was lying in a grassy, ninety-degree haze, eyes bloodshot from the mix of sun and drink.  But thankfully, I wasn't in Massachusetts.  Vassar was having its annual Founder's Day, in which students and some adventurous alumni populate the large athletic field for group naps, intoxicated mingling, live music, carnival rides, local food vendors, and guaranteed surprises.  Sunburnt, exhausted, and hot from a delicious chicken tikka, I was happy to be in New York that day where the water was clean.

 I came home to MA the next day with  the remainder of my things from the home I'd shared before my move from Poughkeepsie to Somerville this past winter.  I also came with a three-liter jug of Poland Spring water.  Inconvenient as it was to boil water on what have been the hottest days here this year and to add about three steps to the dishwashing process, the three days spent without clean tap water induced some positive experiences for me, which I'm moved to list here: 

heightened notice of personal need, much like the aim of fasting; an awareness of quantity required and a reason to minimize waste; nostalgia (Mindfully sealing my lips under the shower reminded me of a week spent three years ago in Ciudad Romero, El Salvador, where a group of us Vassar students learned about local community issues and helped dig the foundation for a community center.  We'd enjoyed delicious meals of our house mothers' black beans, avocados, fried plantains, and homemade tortillas, and we'd showered with lips closed, brushing our teeth with packaged water.  On one of the last days we danced circles in a hot storm of drinkable rain.); the first drawing I've done in ages (of my messy desk - a testament to my lifestyle of rushing and running from one thing to the next.  Stopping to make art is a luxury for which I hope to have more energy this summer).  The colors, also unintentionally, are kind of Poland Spring.