You know that little voice in your head that tries to reason with you when you’re about to do something that might not be in your best interest? It’s the one telling you that you shouldn’t open that package of licorice late at night or you should really spend Saturday afternoon filing your taxes rather than going to the driving range.
With all the talk of drought, there’s been another little voice in my head lately that sounds, oddly enough, a whole lot like Tanya Thorn. I’m finding it hard not to turn on the tap these days without hearing our well-intentioned mayor say we must all do our part to conserve water, challenging me, and everyone else, to reduce consumption by 10 per cent. (Thankfully, she hasn’t said anything about the licorice thus far.)
I must say it’s not ideal to have a politician constantly looking over my shoulder, but I guess it’s a good thing that the idea of conserving water has been so burned into my psyche that I’m aware of it every time I turn on the tap.
For the most part, the little voice has been a gentle reminder, although there was this time a few weeks back when I didn't much care for some of the language she was using. It was during a spell of unseasonably warm days that came on the heels of fairly significant snowfall, which meant the melt was in full swing.
With water spilling out of the downspout adjacent to my garage, pouring all over the driveway, the little voice got pretty blunt. I’m not sure of the exact phrasing, but the query went something like: “What type of moron lets perfectly good garden water just go down the drain?”
I can’t be sure, but I think Coun. Rachel Swendseid, the champion of drought-tolerant grasses, might have jumped in there for a moment as well, so I believe they were actually taking turns questioning the logic, or lack thereof, behind not repurposing the precious resource.
As much as I didn't want to admit it, the politicians were right, so I made my way to The Home Depot and promptly bought a rain barrel that I attached to the downspout to catch the remaining melt, which incidentally filled it within a few hours.
The Town reimbursed me for half the cost of the purchase through its water conservation rebate program, although it’s more likely I got the credit on my utility bill as an apology for the way those not-so-little voices chastised me for squandering all that water. I figured it’s the least they could do after giving me such an earful.
You know, I thought I was doing pretty well when I was moving snow from hard surface shaded areas to the base of sun-soaked trees and pouring the previous day’s hot water bottle onto plants rather than down the drain, but, as the rain barrel shows, there’s always something more you can do to conserve water.
I’m not sure what the next conservation measure will be, but my guess is that a little voice will tell me what to do.
