Water is perhaps more precious than oil where my dad lives. The water table is hundreds of feet down, rainfall non-existent in this season. Dry wells are no joke.
We arrived here last week, with a duffel full of dirty clothes from our sojourn in Maine (just like a college student - I come home to do laundry). We had barely made our way out back to find my dad when my sister-in-law (the Reverend Brother's wife) appears at the gate. She has bad news. There is no water in the big tank, and the pumps have shut off. (They share a well with my dad.) No laundry...no flushing. Will they need to drill deeper?
As it turned out it was an interlock that had gone back at the level of their first well and by dinner time, there was enough water to do the dishes and flush. By bedtime, I had a load of laundry in.