And Then It Floods.

(This post is a continuation of yesterday's story.  Click here to read part one.)

I was expecting a phone call Friday morning around 7:30 - 8:00am from the plumber alerting me that he would be at my house soon.  Eight came and passed, and when the phone finally rang at 9:30am I was already worked up but grateful that help was on its way.


"Hello?"

"Hello, this is (some lady) from (really bad) Plumbing.  I hear you need a plumber?" 

You don't say.

"Yes.  We've had quite a flood and need someone to come check things out so that we can get up and running again."

"Okay.  We will try to get someone out there today."

"Can you give me a window of when that will be?"

"I'm afraid not.  Will you not be home all day?"

"Well, I have three small children here that will need to nap at 1:00pm this afternoon and I'd like to coordinate this if I can."

"I can tell them to come after 1:00pm today.  They will not begin a new job after 3:00pm, so you should expect them during that time."

Sounds like a window to me.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome.  Your plumber will call 30 minutes before he will arrive."

So what was intended to be an early morning repair quickly became an afternoon disaster.  I did my best to get through the day while juggling overflowing dehumidifiers, cooking lunch with no water, and continuously sopping up puddles of water from under, behind and in front of the dishwasher.  I wasn't sure which pipe (if any) was the source of the problem, but I was anxious to get it resolved.

So anxious, in fact, that I was willing to forgive the plumber for not calling in advance of his arrival, which didn't take place until 2:45pm.  When he came to the door, I invited him in and explained the problem, and how I was unable to use the dishwasher or the sink, as water seemed to leak from the dishwasher when the faucet was turned on.

"What the &% #$ do you want me to fix then... the dishwasher or the sink?"

"I want you to fix whatever is putting water on my floors all the time."

"Well I'll check your pipes but if it's a dishwasher issue I won't be any help.  I'm a plumber.  I'm not an appliance guy."

Nice to meet you too, jerk.

As he worked, he continued to swear and huff every time water began to pool on the floor again.

"TOWELS!"

I called Papa to assist me with Plumber McRude, since I wasn't comfortable alone with three small children in the same house as a wrench-wielding plumber on a power trip.  After checking the water lines and replacing some copper lines with new flexible ones that can better fit behind the dishwasher, he announced that he was right and the problem was, indeed, the dishwasher.  He collected $145 of my money and sauntered out of the door to torment another unsuspecting and desperate water-less woman.  I hope she isn't trying to bake a birthday cake, too.

Many phone calls later, we made arrangements for an appliance repair technician to take a look at the defunct dishwasher, but no appointments were available until Monday morning, so my baking, decorating and pizza ambitions would either be put on hold or would require some creative efforts.  Sure, there was water in the bathroom, but who wants to eat a cake that I made while sitting on the toilet?

The weekend came and went, and I did manage to create a cake that impressed my family and Cael was willing to eat.  Monday morning, a much friendlier man knocked on my door 10 minutes early and asked to take a peek at my problem.

Let's see.  Would that be Cael?  Graham?  My checking account?  The scale?  The plumber?

I guessed that he was more interested in the appliance than the others, so I told him the whole story, from start to finish.  He was incredibly apologetic and got right to work diagnosing the problem.

"The good news is that I know what is wrong, and I can fix it.  The bad news is that I have to order the parts and they will probably not arrive until Friday.  Or Monday at the latest."

So here I sit, in my wet, likely molding basement, slowly typing this post with as many fingers crossed as I can while typing.  The spare bedroom floor is dried out, but I am planning to reposition the carpet and furniture until the repairs have been made.  The ceiling in the spare bedroom is in stable but critical condition.  The spots which had been wet now appear dry but have left a yellow stain behind as a snotty reminder of our crappy luck. 

But the real kicker is that our hardwood kitchen floors are all but ruined.  They were slightly uneven from a previous dishwasher leak, but several days of puddles sitting undisturbed overnight have led to hugely warped spots, split boards and unstained sections.  The trim to the left of the appliance is completely rotted and chipping away; a sarcastic metaphor for our savings account after this disaster.


Maybe this is some kind of life test.  If I can get through this trial, maybe God will decide that I'm ready to win the lottery.  Or perhaps someone important will read this blog and you'll see my tired face on television tomorrow morning.

Or maybe it's just bad luck.  But either way, better times are ahead...