Posted on | June 11, 2013 | 2 Comments
I had a pretty rough weekend, I’m not gonna lie. Yes, it was my kid free weekend, but I’d initially had big plans for a weekend getaway and they sort of disintegrated and left me bummed and, well… pissed off about it.
Yesterday I got up determined to bring the sunshine back in my life and set about being as bright and shiny as I could be while, you know, working. I whistled a lot because whistling makes me happy. I listened to The Avett Brothers and
Critter Old Crow Medicine Show, because they make me happy. I texted with friends because, yes, they make me happy, too. And then I went and picked up my child with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.
I’d survived Monday.
I was pretty darn proud of myself.
We got home and I got J’s dinner ready and started my own. Then I happened to look at the back wall of my kitchen.
You guys. It was flat out pregnant with water. Like, bulging out of the wall with a taut belly of nasty brown water that yes, I know it was nasty and brown because I made the smart choice to reach out in wonder and POP the damn bubble and then shriek with the, well, nasty brownness of it. So I’m shrieking about brown water and J is in the kitchen yelling “IS OUR HOUSE GOING TO FALL DOWN?” Which, no, of course not, but also maybe? It sure felt like it.
I called a few people and ended up asking the husband of a friend of mine to come over and help me figure out if there was an active leak that needed to be fixed. Also it was his birthday. Also he came anyway, because I’m so damn blessed to have good friends.
So now there’s sopping wet insulation in the attic, rotting wooden boards in the ceiling rafters, and water behind the lovely green paint of my kitchen, and I’ve filed a claim with my homeowner’s insurance policy, which inexplicably still has my ex-husband’s name on it. Because insult to injury.
So much for winning Mondays….
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