Monday, Monday

Can't trust that day. Yesterday was a lovely day. Everything I touched turned to gold (I wish). While it didn't turn to gold exactly, things went smoothly and I accomplished all I set out to do.

After a restless night, Charming Eddie has suddenly decided that his favorite spot to sleep is on top of me, I awoke to another spectacular day with the sun shining brightly and the temperature hovering in the 50's. I let the dogs out into the now soggy yard with all of the recent snow having melted. When I went to check on them, Cujo was trying to wriggle his fat body through an opening in the fence. He couldn't make, though he tried. I was just thankful it was him and not Eddie with his long, sleek torso and svelte body.

Now, this particular part of the fence had been noticed long ago by the lady of the manor and pointed out to HeWho should be in charge of fixing stuff. I even told the man to just slap a board over the offending breach and screw it on. We can replace the bad boards come Spring.  

He is partial to nails, while I prefer screws. Easier to take apart. I assumed he would patch it on the inside of the fence, but in his manly wisdom he chose the outside and used three boards, still leaving space at the top. This where I found fat little Cujo frantically squirming. He would have gotten stuck when he got to his midsection and would have hurt himself. I grabbed a piece of strand board, in the shape of a triangle and  slapped it over the hole and screwed it down.

I was slopping back to the door through the muddy mess left behind by the melted snow, a little irritated that my slippers were wet. Thinking I would tell the men that I wanted a good load of dirt in the back corner of the yard in the Spring. The dogs were skipping along beside me, as Martha, the boy cat, gave us all the stink eye. He was grooming himself and shaking his paws off, one at a time. 

I stepped inside and saw a growing river of water in my kitchen. The origin was a mystery. I checked the pump room and it was dry ….. but, it is Monday. HeWho plumbs was on his way to walk on a treadmill, an hour away. I called him and described what was happening as I was frantically mopping. "Well, go to the gray box with the big handle on it and turn the water off." Like I may be unaware of which box provided power to the pump. It says "pump" on the box. The man who installed the pump wrote it on there. I like labels. HeWho prefers to flip the breakers one by one while I watch to see if the one he wants to work on goes off. I even suggested that it might be fun to label them.

I didn't think that the pump was the problem and said so. "Well, do you want me to miss re-hab and come home to fix it!?" What should I answer? Many answers came to mind, but I just hung up on him. No response IS a response, right?

The water was still growing and was headed for the living area and the store. I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the water out the back door. I knew the pump was not on, I would have heard it when I ventured to the labeled gray box and turned it off. But, I left it off and threw on the clothes I had on yesterday and a pair of flip flops and headed to the public laundry room. 

I opened the door to the store/office and peered out, hoping to be all by myself. I had had no shower, my hair was sticking out in all directions and most importantly I had had NO COFFEE. I opened the laundry room door and found the problem. The laundry room had about 2 inches of water on the floor, as a washing machine was in it's final spin. Hmm, no wonder I was sliding around on my floor and suds were forming as I pushed the water out my back door.

Knowing that the problem was the drain and not the pump I was rounding the corner to go back in and flip the pump back on before I started fielding complaints. There stood a camper, waiting for me. A talker, this one, when all I wanted to do was get the pump back on, so I could clean up the mess in the laundry.

I called HeWho re-habs and told him I found the problem and he assures me that he will fix it after he has re-habbed. My hero. There is a drain in the laundry room floor, but it was draining very slowly. Who knows what is clogging the drain(s). Could be a tiny sock, could be a big ball of lint. Could be that I just want to go back to bed until Tuesday!

I swept the water out of the laundry room and decided to go ahead and clean the shower rooms and gather all the trash, etc. I am just now having my first cup of coffee at 10:45 AM. This is just so wrong.