My wife called the man who had dug our well. He gave her the name of a man who specializes in well-electrical interfaces. My wife called him. This morning, reasonably early, he arrived with his daughter. After a little tinkering, he fixed the electrical connection to our well. After some sputtering (the ozone filter having a bit of a fit), water came from our tap. The End of Civilization crisis of the day is over.
The cost of the repair came to several hundred dollars, which we can ill afford, but as everything is relative, we can afford it much better than the several thousand dollars replacing the well pump would have cost, so we abstained from whining.
As we chatted with the well-electrical system specialist (who had traveled down from Oak Harbor), he cheerfully told us about his problems. Near the end of last year, his house had partially burned down. The process of rebuilding his house had turned into a nightmare. As the contractors on South Whidbey are often rather lackadaisical, I expressed surprise he had encountered similar problems in Oak Harbor – he related tales of contractors who seldom finished tasks or did them poorly, blamed him for their problems, and so on. He said, the contractors he had used had come from Seattle. I guess the moral is that things are bad all over.
I thanked him enthusiastically for his prompt arrival and successful work on fixing our problem. We paid his fee cheerfully. Civilization bounces back for another day.