There were so many titles I could have given this post: "Stupid Luck", "Reason #47 Why I Hate Winter", "Welcome to the Money Pit", "Maybe I Shouldn't Leave the House Anymore" - but I refrained, because in the end, everything has turned out fine.
Why the sour salutation, after so many days of silence? Well - D and I got home on the 31st and found out that we had experienced another flood. No, we did not discover a foot of water in the basement - everything was dry. In fact, we knew there had been water in the basement while we were gone. Two days after Christmas the temps climbed to close to 60 (who was here for that?) and it poured. So all that snow on the ground had nowhere to go.
Our neighbor who was watching the house actually called to let us know what was going on, but at the time of his call, there was only about an inch in the basement. It was only after we got him, when he jogged across the street to drop off the key, that he told us the water level climbed much higher. He did not tell us how high.
At 9:30 I wanted a bath, but alas, there was no hot water. I sent Vid downstairs to light the pilot, and laid down on our bed to wait, listening to the
clickclickclickclick of the pilot light not catching. "Please Lord," I prayed. He came upstairs with a grim look on his face. "I can't get it to work. And the dryer won't turn on, either."
Well, we went to bed praying for a solution we could afford - and God is good. The next morning, the pilot light lit, and we had hot water. The dryer is still sitting in pieces on the floor of the basement, waiting for a repairman. I visited the laundromat for the first time last week - and it may not be the last.
Sigh. At least it's cosy and warm in there.
