Have you ever seen someone from across a room that you were sure was the most perfect human specimen on earth? Someone that was just so good looking, you couldn’t look away? And when you finally got up the courage to talk to them, you realize that they are a barking lunatic? I mean, they say something like, “My beliefs are fairly commonplace and simple to understand. Humankind is simply materialized color operating on the 49th vibration.” or “The biggest problem with the Star Wars prequels was that there wasn’t enough Jar Jar.” And you think, I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that and stare really hard at that beautiful face. Because… so pretty!
I think that is happening to me right now… with my house.
Last Wednesday, my sister in Utah texted me that she and her family of 5 were on their way to Yakima for our other sister’s wedding. They were planning on staying here, and I thought, “I’ve got 10 hours to scrub this dump until it shines.”. And also, “Yea! My sister is coming!”. A couple hours later, I heard beeping coming from somewhere, and told the kids to find the source. And then there was screaming and panic because… Well, did you know that fire alarms will go off when water is pouring through them? I didn’t know that.
Something was shouted about my niece’s bedroom downstairs and beeping and that she was freaking out. I ran downstairs and saw water gushing out of my niece’s bedroom ceiling, drenching her bed, and pooling up on the carpet. And then while I calmly ran to get a chair so that I could turn off our water (ahem, while I was running around in circles screaming Mormon swear words), part of the ceiling drywall collapsed onto her bed, and a tidal wave of water spread down the hall and across half the basement.
And so… we got to vacuum a couple inches of water out of our house Wednesday instead of getting my house ready for guests. Mr. Darcy kindly reminded me in calm, screaming tones that this is the 3rd time in four years this house has flooded and that he would like to set it on fire and dance naked around its burning shell. Mr. Darcy is better at removing himself from dysfunctional relationships than I am. He’s like, “That chick is crazy. Get away from me.” and I’m all, “Oooh, but it’s not her fault… I need to fix her! Her previous relationships did her wrong! They didn’t take care of her the way they should have!”.
An emergency plumber was able to squeeze us into his schedule, and the minute he shined his flashlight up into the ceiling he said, “NO! NO! NO! WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”. Because, the people that finished the basement used irrigation pipes inside the walls instead of pipes that are, you know, rated for in home use. And so the plastic irrigation pipe failed and exploded water everywhere. Now we have to try and find all of the faulty plumbing and replace it. Which isn’t paid for by our home owner’s insurance because they cover the damage, but not what caused the problem in the first place.
So, let me tell you something that will probably make you scream and then vomit. The crew that came in to fix everything, cut away the drywall in the basement bathroom. AND! Guess what they found in the walls? Go ahead! Just make a guess. Isn’t this game fun? So much fun.
ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY MOUSE CORPSES. Apparently, the mice find their way in through some exterior hole, get trapped in the bathroom wall and die. Seriously, is anyone else feeling a little dizzy?
Oh, Pemberley, you psycho house beast.