If you thought I had finally ran out of stories you might have miscalculated. I had to take a short sabbatical from writing about “our crazy lives” to take care of “our crazy lives”. It would be great to share a story about a trip to Disneyland or Elaine and I enjoying a river cruise, but that would make these stories fiction and that’s not what I do here..
I feel like I’m living my life over again, at least some of the unpleasant parts. Exactly one year and a week after experiencing Flood Monner, I had the “pleasure” of another house flood. No, it wasn’t our house this time.
This flood took place in my construction life. I like to think I/we build quality houses. Sometimes things just go wrong.
I had finished a house for a couple that the wife was a citizen of a large country in southern Asia. By finished, I mean the carpet was laid, the painters were done and landscaping completed. The only thing left was to collect a check and give the couple the keys to the house.
Mrs. Henry (not her real name) had requested a couple options in her home that are not generally installed in this country. One such option were water sprayers mounted next to each toilet in the home for the purpose of (use your own imagination here).
As I had mentioned the house was finished, I had locked the doors and was patiently waiting until “closing day.” I/we hadn’t been in the house for three days. One evening while driving home I received a phone call from Mr. Henry.
Henry: monner, I’m peeking the windows of my house, I think we have a problem. Me: What’s up? Henry: Water is coming out of the second floor and the first floor carpet looks really wet. Me: I will get there as fast as I can; the hide-a-key is on the porch, can you go in and shut the water off?
Arriving at the house I was greeted by the “Henries”. Mr. Henry exclaimed, “The master bath fanny squirter (Did you guess that’s what they were for?) exploded, water is everywhere.”
The master bathroom was flooded. Water was getting into the walls and flooding the first floor and the basement. The wood floors in the dining and great rooms were ruined. Carpets on all finished floors were holding water. The squirter could have been squirting for three days.
Mr. Henry asked/told me, “I hope this doesn’t change our closing date, will it?” I can’t/won’t tell you how much of my “construction language” I shared with the Henries, at that point.
Since the last time I have written, the cross-country season has ended. The twins finished every race in the middle of the pack. Boy Twin is looking forward to next year, Girl Twin; not so much. At the conclusion of the district finals, the team celebrated with a decorated cake supplied by the parents.
No parent was assigned to bring plates and forks, so the celebration was lengthened to allow a parent to drive to the grocery store for the utensils. I tired of the wait.
Me: Come on twins, we can get cake at home. Boy and Girl Twin: We want cake! Me: Boy Twin, you don’t eat cake when we have it at home. Boy Twin: That’s true, I don’t like CHEAP cake.
I deserve this sabbatical.
Our crazy lives!