The Flooded Basement
It’s a few minutes before midnight. You must be wondering why I’m up and doing stuff, after hearing the legendary stories of my fantastic sleeper of a 3-month-old.
I’ll tell you.
A few hours ago, after putting Lucy to sleep and as we prepared to turn in to bed ourselves, I took Jed outside for his last bathroom break and I heard a strange rustle coming from the azaleas. It sounded like the hose had suddenly and aggressively turned itself on.
If only that were so.
Instead, I had the pleasure of seeing my sump pump in action, watering my shrubs with the water it was draining from the only place sump pumps go: the basement. I called Jed in (did he even have time to relieve himself, I’m only just now wondering as I type) and called to Bill. This was a problem.
I didn’t know what a sump pump was when we bought the house, but the realtor assured us the two in our basement were complete overkill for any water problems we might ever encounter. So far I’ve only seen them activate during exceptionally heavy storms, diverting water away from the house before it ever reached our basement. And the only direct interaction I’ve had with them was removing a possum family from the top of one of them shortly after we moved in.
Bill and I darted downstairs and were met with every homeowner’s favorite surprise, with the added excitement of it showing up right before bed and directly under the sleeping three-month-old’s room: flooding. A quick diagnoses told us the water heater had finally given up.
A new water heater is joining a list of appliance issues we’ve encountered as of late. Earlier today I ordered repair parts for our dishwasher because we can’t afford a new one right now, nor the cost of the repair guy. Our stove is from 1987 and every day we have with it is a miracle. We replaced our refrigerator three days after Lucy was born.
The Shop-Vac was still around and handy from our last basement water fiasco, as was a mop, so we got to work. After sopping up what we could, we set up some box fans and headed back upstairs, briefly talking strategy for tomorrow. Bill would spend a PTO day working on the issue. I will go back to work. Lucy will go to daycare.
Shit, daycare! We looked at the pile of dirty bottles next to the sink, noting that we didn’t have enough to both give her breakfast in the morning and send her to daycare with what she needed for the day.
I am a lousy sleeper anyway, so it made the most sense for me to fall on that sword. So here I am, waiting for a massive pot of water to boil on the stove, so I can clean a bunch of bottles.
That is why I am awake right now.