As many of you know, I will rather vacuum ten carpets before I mop one floor… and while I wanted a clean floor, I got more than I bargained for on Tuesday.
Things are hectic at work, and mentally, I feel like packing my bags and catching the first plane out of Dodge. My phone rang on Tuesday morning; my landlord. Nothing unusual as he sometimes asks me to do something for him. The call, this time though, was to let me know that his daughter, Bev (who thankfully is visiting) let him know there was water running out The Cave’s front door. Upon venturing closer, she could hear water running. My heart sank, because four years ago, around this same time of the year, a pipe burst in my en-suite bathroom flooding my bedroom, the lounge, the kitchen, and the garage. Without thinking, I grabbed my keys and charged home. True as nuts, a solid stream of water was fighting to make its way outside. Fortunately, Bev had turned the main water supply off, so the offensive leak had been shut off.
Upon inspection, it turned out that the leak had stemmed from a worn pipe under the dishwashing sink (which I seldom use because it’s easier to pack the dishwasher), so the flood was confined to the lounge area. I began the awful job of sweeping the water out the door, which, as I got closer was tinged with red. Great, so something died underneath the fridge or the bookshelves, I thought to myself. Sadly, my beautiful Persian runner carpet wasn’t spared the water’s wrath and the dye was seeping out of the fibres. I’m sad about it, because it is one of only a few things I was able to have when my parents had to give up the house. Sentimentally, the thing is priceless
While I was doing my thing, the gentleman that my landlord had sent to my rescue arrived. He removed the entire tap, and said, given the amount of water that went through the cupboard, it would have to be removed. I know my landlord won’t have a problem to do that, he and his wife are good people. They will be visiting soon for the Easter weekend. In the meantime. While I was still sweeping, a mirror, that has been on the windowsill for ever, fell off of its resting place, crashing to the floor, and shattering…but not before gaffing me on the foot. I look like a blue footed boobie now.
I decided to try and turn a negative situation into a positive by tossing tile cleaner all over the show with wanton abandon and sweep-scrubbing the floor while removing as much of the water as I could. The Cave now smells like a combination of oceany breezes with a hint of lavender potpourri, so I guess I got my clean floor after all…