That changed when I moved to a country house in North Dakota and had to work for my water.
Here, we also have no direct water supply to the house; the water used for cleaning, showers, and toilet flushing we haul from the city's water tower.
We also have no sewer system--it's a below-ground septic tank in our back yard, the precise location of which is unknown (finding it will be fodder for another blog and a possible reality TV episode...or two). If I were to take those long, scalding hot showers that I love, our tank would overfloweth...and who knows where that's going. I think it's safe to say that I'm not going to be dowsing for a well on the property. Even if we were to find a well, it wouldn't last that long; many people out here who have dug them have to relocate their well once every two or three years. I have no concept what digging a well involves, other than lots of time and money.
Once we've arrived, Roger (because he's slightly taller with longer arms) will clamber up on the trailer and reach for the nozzle onto which he attaches the hose to put water into the tank. I position myself next to the coin slot and wait for further instruction: eye contact, a nod of the head, or that sort of nonverbal signal.
Then Roger unscrews the tank lid and inserts the other end of the hose into the tank. When he's braced himself sufficiently (that water comes shooting out at God-knows-how-many-gallons-per-second), he gives me a nonverbal signal to commence offering quarters to the Flaxton water gods. Reverently, we both wait for the metallic sound of rushing water that indicates the flood gates have been opened.
Mind you, it isn't a precise system, but the cost is most often $1.25 for 250 gallons of water. Sometimes, fortune smiles upon us and we can fill the tank for 75 cents. Sometimes, it costs $2.25. More often than not, though, I plug 5 American quarters, one at a time, into the slot on the side of the building. Canadian quarters jam the machine, resulting in an inability to shut off the water...at all. Roger found this out when someone had used a Canadian quarter and he tried to shut off the supply by holding down the water shut-off button. The supply didn't shut off and water shot everywhere until he could call someone in town to come shut it off (I was not along for this adventure). The most recent time we went, we arrived to find water pouring out of the overflow and creating a small slough at the base of one of the tower's feet. On this occasion, we met the public works supervisor (an engineer from Texas) and his wife (an architect from Switzerland). From our local water engineer, we learned that Flaxton has the best water in the state, brought up from a well 600-feet below the ground.
Once the tank is full, we bring the water back to the house, hook up a different hose to the tank's spigot, remove the repurposed tuna can that prevents critters from entering and drowning in the cistern and tainting our supply of the state's best water, shove the other end of the hose into a hole and feed it through some piping in the house's foundation, turn on the spigot, and let the tank drain into the cistern in the basement. This takes about 20 minutes.