Or a morning story. It could also be an afternoon story.

Basically, it’s a story for anytime of the day.

The Old Woman and The Hose

The was once an old woman who lived in a quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north. The direction of the river has no bearing on our story, nor does the fact that the old woman lived alongside the river.

In truth, living in a quaint cottage is a minor detail as well.

All that matters is the woman was old.

And had a hose.

One day the old woman decided to water her garden. First, she took her feeble body to the store and purchased a watering wand to attach to her hose. The old woman chose the least expensive watering wand she could find because, not only was the old woman old, she was also frugal.

‘Now I can water my plants,’ she said cheerfully as she attached the watering wand to the quick-disconnect thingy already installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north.

The old woman hummed to herself as she turned on the water faucet and tried to skip, for you see the old woman was old and old women don’t skip all that great, to the watering wand attached to the quick-disconnect thingy already installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north.

The old woman flipped the thumb control on the watering wand into the ON position and pointed the watering wand attached to the quick-disconnect thingy already installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north, at her garden.

No water flowed.

‘Perhaps I don’t have the water turned high enough,’ the old woman mused as she shook the watering wand attached to the quick-disconnect thingy already installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north.

The old woman hobbled back to the water faucet. Screw skipping, she thought,
and turned the dial all the way.

For a second time the old woman flipped the thumb control of the watering wand into the ON position and pointed the watering wand attached to the quick-disconnect thingy installed on the end of the hose… whatever…

Drip, drip, drip.

‘WTF!’ the old woman scowled. ‘This watering wand is a piece of @#%&.’

The old woman removed the watering wand attached to the quick-disconnect thingy installed on the end of the hose, yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah.

‘How dare they sell me a piece of junk,’ the old woman grumbled.

Determined to return the watering wand to the store for a full refund, the old woman placed the watering wand in the trunk of her car while she consoled herself with thoughts of giving the store manager a piece of her mind.

Not one to be daunted by a broken watering wand, the old woman decided she would squirt water through the quick-disconnect thingy by releasing the tension in the quick-disconnect thingy installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north.

Proud of herself for being such a quick thinker, the old woman began humming again and tried to skip to the water faucet, although the skipping wasn’t as jubilant as the first time. After all, the old woman was still old, and tired of walking back and forth.

Returning to the hose, the old woman pointed the end with the quick-disconnect thingy installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north, at her garden and released the tension.

Drip, drip, drip.

Words that would have made a street urchin blush filled the peaceful setting on the shore of the winding river that flowed north.

The old woman was not a happy camper as she stomped back to the faucet to turn off the water. The old woman was a very good stomper for such an old woman.

‘Stupid quick-disconnect thingy must be faulty,’ the old woman grunted, as she tried to twist the quick-disconnect thingy from the end of the hose that was located…ah, who cares?

The quick-disconnect thingy did not budge.

Not even when the old woman used pliers.

Not even when the old woman sprayed WD-40 on the quick-disconnect thingy.

Not even when the old woman bashed the quick-disconnect thingy with her
hammer.

Growling like a feral dog, the old woman grabbed her wire snipers and cut the hose, thus removing the quick-disconnect thingy that had been installed on the end of the hose that was located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north.

‘Stupid piece of %#@&.’

For a third time the old woman returned to the faucet and turned on the water. She stomped back to the end of the hose that no longer had a quick-connect thingy installed but was still located at the quaint cottage on the shore of a winding river that flowed north.

Drip, drip, drip.

The old woman shook the hose.

Drip.

The old woman peered into the hose, wondering if a mouse had crawled inside.

Drip.

‘My damn water pressure must be off,’ the old woman cried, as thoughts of her money filling the dependable, but costly, plumber’s hands.

The old woman whimpered and dragged her defeated old body to the faucet to turn off the water.

And that was when she saw the problem.

Stupid old woman.

Blessed be :}

Mi manchi, mia amata immortale.