Tonight, I want to sell this crazy old house and buy a small, new, extremely new condo. Have just spent the evening dealing with a minor flood in the basement apartment. Many years ago, when I was dealing with yet another basement flood, that one much, much worse, a friend opined that I must have offended a water god in a former life. And yea verily, it is true. In my 25 years in this house, there has been every kind of water disaster, leaking roof, leaking skylights, leaking basement, and the oh so fragile yet vital sump pump.
And also, strangely, the major fire in the basement. Fires also are water disasters. Because though the fire does a lot of damage, the hoses and their jets of water do too.
Yet tonight, rode to the rescue an unlikely hero, John the plumber, recommended by his friend John the handyman. John the P. drove speedily from his home, charged in, inspected the sump pump, found various connections with bits of pipe, shone his trusty flashlight in various corners, and made pronouncements which I did not comprehend. I do know that it means spending money. Anything, as long as I do not have to do what Charles the tenant and I spent half an hour doing this evening, mopping two inches of water into a bucket, which subsequently broke.
I’m an intellectual, my soul whimpered. I’m meant to be sitting in an armchair smoking a pipe and reading great books, not in gumboots with a filthy mop in my hand.
But this is real life, girl, said my other half. And this is how you pay for this house. So if you don’t want to move to a small, very new condo, shut up and mop.
