Dear Hot Water,

You know that old hair band song, the one that said, "You don't know what you got til it's gone"?

Every day I search for you.  As soon as I leave work, and step into the frigid air, I daydream of you waiting for me when I get home…you, filling the bath tub, accompanied by lavender soap bubbles…ready to wash the day away, and thaw my bones.

And to clean up the wounds I got when I fell off the bus.

And off the porch.

And down the driveway.

But you are never there.  Please come back.

Cause if I have to join the YMCA across the street for $23 a month just to find you again, the shit is going to hit the fan.

And I won't be able to clean it off.  Because I will have no hot water.

Love,

Jools