…but this morning was not so much fun as I watched the water pour through my living room ceiling, then through the oak floor, into the crawlspace below. Nor was it too much fun as I realized that the less than 3 week old wall-to-wall carpeting in the upstairs hallway and my bedroom had been soaking up said water before it siphoned its way between the slats of the hardwood ceiling to drip into Jack’s playpen, soak the couch, and sponge into the gyproc on the other side of one of the hardwood lined walls.
And now that I am sitting here watching and feeling my cup-size increase exponentially as the hours that the apres sinsitre men (from sinisco – very nice and professional men) work away at drying out this house add up. I have to smile.
My dogs are waiting patiently behind a baby gate in the laundry room, my father came to pick up Jack so I could be free to deal with whatever came up. The firemen arrived really quickly (yay Les Cedres firemen) and cleaned up much of the water and helped me to find the elusive main valve in the crawlspace. A friend of mine found me a plumber to come tomorrow morning after all of phone calls I made to the plumbers I tried to contact were met with answering machines: on holiday! And I’ll be spending the night with Jack and the dogs at my parents house, where my father is fixing a roast beef dinner.
Besides the ton of money that I will soon be parting with, if engorgement is the highlight of the pain I am feeling right now, I count my lucky stars and repeat:
It could always be worse.
