I was talking to my mom on Sunday (yes, I have a mom–despite comments to the contrary I was not hatched nor dropped off by aliens) when I heard a plop-plop noise coming from the kitchen.
Darn. I knew those cats were up to something.
We have 4 cats. One of them is always up to something. And despite having a dog, we know it’s usually a cat at fault.
And so it was that after saying goodbye to my mom, I snuck into the kitchen planning on raising a little fur with a well placed ‘gotcha!’
Alas, there wasn’t a kitty in sight, but my toes were touching water. As one does when one knows one is firmly in an unpleasant situation, I looked up. There was a trickle of a waterfall dropping onto my kitchen floor.
And because there’s always a period of shock associated with seeing waterfalls, I reached out to touch it. Caught a few drops then rubbed it between my fingers and sniffed it. Yep, definitely water. Next, being that I was a bit in shock at how such a thing came to be in my kitchen. I touched the drop ceiling.
And it touched me back
Dry wall crumbled and plopped onto my head. Then came a stream of water with a fiberglass chaser.
Then it unzipped like a man’s trousers in front of a prostitute (Dan, I blame you for that image. Well, you and the Sex Zombies book)
Son of a–!
I ran outside and shut off the main to the house. Swearing like a sailor I stomped inside, grabbed a diningroom chair as I stormed past and surfed across the lake in my kitchen.
With very little effort another large chunk of my ceiling came down. I hate that drop ceiling. I hated even worse to look up and see darkness. So I waded back to the dining room and grabbed my headlamp from the dog walking bag and strapped it on.
The batteries were dead.
Of course! I swapped them out, put the light back on and crawled up on the counter with the dirty dishes. After pawing through the fiberglass insulation, I saw several candidates for the water leak and many, many electrical lines.
So being a sane person I walked into the laundry area that backs up to the kitchen and punched through the wet spot there.
Given that God has a sense of humor, I realized while standing on my brand spanking new, just installed washing machine that I was too bleeping short to see any flipping thing. So back to the kitchen, I returned. Everything was dripping.
So I turned off the valve to the hot water, turned on the main then came back to the waterfall extravaganza. Slipping and sliding back onto the counter, I peeked into the ceiling and got a face full of water. Yay me!
It did nothing to cool my temper and I nearly fell off the counter so I grabbed the nearest thing and came away with more drywall and a bruise on my hip. Off went the main again.
Glaring at the ceiling, I attended a skype meeting I’d set up with my editor then texted and phoned my husband (but he didn’t answer) for the phone number for the plumber who was coincidentally supposed to show up. After my meeting, I cleaned up most of the drywall then grabbed my keys and went to hunt down my neighbor (said plumber from above).
Fortunately, he was just finishing up dinner and came over. He didn’t see the leak by standing on the counter but did when he knelt on the washer (there will be no short jokes). He too got sprayed in the face. Anyway, he went home then came back with a small piece of plastic, cut out the split piece of plastic line (what moron puts a plastic line in an attic in Phoenix?), then patched it and voila no more leak.
Since I had him right by the washer he temporarily fixed a leak in the hot and cold faucets that hubby hadn’t told me about until I bought him a new washer.
So instead of a brand new bathroom. I got a new washer and I’m getting a new kitchen ceiling. Stay tuned for the adventures in raising the roof, er, ceiling.