You know when something like this:
Turns into this:
Oh wait...you don't? Well this post is the embodiment of my life. I strive for simplicity and efficiency, but I am thwarted at most turns.
So I was gathering school supplies and remembered I had a bag of pencils in the desk in the basement. I opened the closet and was hit with a musty odor. I knelt, felt the carpet, and hung my head. It was wet. Maybe it's not that bad, I lied to myself. But when I pulled out the desk I was met with this:
I had two options ahead of me. 1) Pretend this wasn't happening until Steve got home and let him deal with it. 2) Deal with it myself. I chose option 2. That sweet man I married would have died a thousand deaths ripping out moldy carpet, sopping wet insulation, drywall, and baseboards and frankly, I didn't need to hear him in the throes of agony. To his credit he would have done it, but why make everyone suffer? Thankfully, I have watched enough HGTV to know what and how to do it.
D and I spent the morning and afternoon tackling that project while M, J, and C ate watermelon and climbed the stairs. Since my hands were gross, D manned the camera.
The plumber charged $130 to fix it the same day. He was great. Turns out our pipe was cracked in two places. Steve was mightily impressed when he got home and once we were all cleaned up we spent some time with the kiddos while they made fairy dust bubbles. (They scrape chalk into dust on the side of a glass jar and add water and bubbles. Not surprisingly, we've lost a fair amount of jars this summer.)
And that was the day. Not at all what I had planned and now that I have the walls and floor drying out I need to figure out how to do drywall. I figure I ripped it out, I can put it back together. And did you hear that? That was Steve groaning.
So I was gathering school supplies and remembered I had a bag of pencils in the desk in the basement. I opened the closet and was hit with a musty odor. I knelt, felt the carpet, and hung my head. It was wet. Maybe it's not that bad, I lied to myself. But when I pulled out the desk I was met with this:
I had two options ahead of me. 1) Pretend this wasn't happening until Steve got home and let him deal with it. 2) Deal with it myself. I chose option 2. That sweet man I married would have died a thousand deaths ripping out moldy carpet, sopping wet insulation, drywall, and baseboards and frankly, I didn't need to hear him in the throes of agony. To his credit he would have done it, but why make everyone suffer? Thankfully, I have watched enough HGTV to know what and how to do it.
D and I spent the morning and afternoon tackling that project while M, J, and C ate watermelon and climbed the stairs. Since my hands were gross, D manned the camera.
The plumber charged $130 to fix it the same day. He was great. Turns out our pipe was cracked in two places. Steve was mightily impressed when he got home and once we were all cleaned up we spent some time with the kiddos while they made fairy dust bubbles. (They scrape chalk into dust on the side of a glass jar and add water and bubbles. Not surprisingly, we've lost a fair amount of jars this summer.)
Beards were the look of the evening.
Looking on with absolute admiration.
And that was the day. Not at all what I had planned and now that I have the walls and floor drying out I need to figure out how to do drywall. I figure I ripped it out, I can put it back together. And did you hear that? That was Steve groaning.
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