Before I moved to Alaska, I thought only people in third-world countries lived in homes without water. I couldn’t grasp the concept of living without running water. How do you shower? How do you wash dishes? Do you really expect me to use an outhouse?

The Engineer showers in a locked, unisex shower stall in the University’s engineering and natural sciences building. He has a key. He keeps a yellow and blue plastic bag from the University bookstore stocked with flip-flops, White Rain shampoo and generic soap in his truck at all times. The shampoo freezes in the dead of winter. When I shower with him, I wash his hair with my high-end shampoo and conditioner from the salon. I am appalled that he would wash his hair with a product purchased for $1.99 and at a grocery store.

For my birthday, The Engineer gave me a bathtub, sort of. It’s a 45-gallon plastic tub. He fills it with 20 gallons of water that he hauls in five-gallon blue jugs. The Engineer heats the water for me with a portable camping shower. I luxuriate in water has hot as I like. My aromatherapy blends permeate the rustic cabin. He disposes the water in five-gallon buckets that he dumps into the woods adjacent to the cabin. He does all of this for me twice a week without complaining.