The Plumber Rings Twice (Episode II Of ‘Life In An Old House’)

By | December 3, 2014

So there are no more mice, or so it seems. Perhaps they got flooded during the partial flooding of the basement. We don’t call it flooding for now though; we refer to it as ‘the puddle’. It sounds almost friendly. We know it’s not. It is not a case of sheer delusion, but rather holding down the fort until repairs can be done.

It’s complicated. The plumber came once to assess and then an hour later to take a few more photos. It is that good.

As of now, all water that gets used in the bathroom trickles into ‘the puddle’ due to a breaking in one of the pipes. Yes, we wish we knew of that one before moving. Please do not say the word hindsight, we know it and we know it well. It stings at the moment, so use with care.

So those most curious of you will ask about all those hidden things one does behind the bathroom door. The short answer is ‘we’ve seen better’. The long one goes as follows: we are becoming more knowledgeable of the restrooms around town like ever before, we shower at friends’ houses and we are becoming even more environmentally friendly than we’ve ever been (and trust me, we really are) by conserving water because we know its wicked presently broken ways into the basement and its ardent desire to join ‘the puddle.’

Yes, we’re learning. A curve so steep it hurts your eyes to look up. so we won’t and take the step by step approach instead. It works better that way.

We occasionally see tip-toeing boys around the yard, giggling as snow and cold make them shudder, and feeling a bit naughty for peeing by the tree in the yard. The snow covers it overnight and then they’re at it again. Since Tony is studying medieval history, we can consider this a practicum of some sort. Play always makes it better for children. This will be no exception.

As of now we have the following: a missing landlord (vacation and no reception), no working toilet, no mice but nine of them clouding our otherwise clear conscience, ‘the puddle’, and a willing plumber and a mental map of all the working public toilets in the area. Just ask.

Oh, and a beautiful view of the river and its beautiful white snow-laced shores, and a whole lot of hills enveloped by beautiful cold mist in early morning.

It could be worse, that’s what we keep repeating. Surprisingly enough such adventures make us more grateful rather than resentful. It’s what you make of it, some say, and I am ready to believe they are right…

To be continued….

 

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