Good Neighbor, Bad Neighborhood.

So last night, I'm coloring my hair (yes I color my own hair)
and the phone rings.
I ask Dylan to answer it because as I said, I was coloring
my hair and couldn't put my ear to the phone
unless of course we wanted a Warm Reddish Brown phone.
So he answers it, says "She's right here." and
hands me the phone.
Blink.
Blink.
Whatever.
Holding the phone away from my Warm Reddish Brown
ear I say...."Yeah?"
It's Doug down the street.
"Kerry, did you hear about the water."
"Wha?"
"The water is contaminated."
"WHA?" - no seriously, I couldn't hear him.
"Don't use the water, it's contaminated."
WTF?
He continues: "Don't you watch the news?"
"No."
"Well, they're giving out water at the fire station until 9pm."
Now, remember, Warm Reddish Brown....AND it's 8:45.
There is no way I'd make it out of the house for water.
"Well, thanks Doug, but I'm coloring my hair, won't be able to get
out, but thanks again for letting me know that we can die if we drink the water."
Of course the only thing I'm worried about is my morning coffee.
I have about 10 mini bottles of water. How many cups can
I get out of that....x=13 x the sum of y + caffiene.........
Now, our town has an Emergency something or other branch.
Hello??
Could you let us know that our water has poop in it??
An automated phone message?
A flier in our mailboxes?
Heck, even a truck with a bullhorn.
So, as my grey is becoming a thing of the past, Dylan is
trying to convince me that the pasta I made for dinner
is slowly killing him.
Then there is a knock at the door.
Doug.
Doug bearing a case of water.
The guy went into town and got us a case of water!
I yelled my thanks to him from my dining room where I was
hiding, with my Warm Reddish Brown goop and the ripped,
stained 12 year old shirt I wear when coloring my hair.
Seriously, if the guy saw me, he'd take the water back.
Now THAT is a great neighbor.
I have to get him something as a thank you.
I'll think about it as I sit here drinking my coffee.
Great neighbor.