My route took me across a narrow section of lawn between the northeast corner of the house and the willow. As I stooped to grab the sprayer I noticed my feet were not just cool — another benefit of well-kept grass — but also damp. I retraced my steps and realized, as my feet made that distinctive squishy sound, that the lawn wasn’t merely wet. I knew, although I wished I did not, that the water supply line ran right about where I had soaked my feet. We were without water — well, almost without — for most of a week.