Wednesday it poured. I alternated between speaking in tongues and humming ditties as I manned the shop vac. It wasn’t a flood of water. Just enough of a continuous puddle under the washer to make a pain in the ( ! ) of itself. The rain was coming down heavy. The ground was frozen with a recent snowfall with ice that turned to rain. The water had no place to go and the interior drain is either clogged or just couldn’t take the amount of water.
This was not a Little Princess job. I wanted to be Chip Morton, the XO on the Seaview. I wanted to give orders. “Chief, close off frame 34 and get a detail down there with pumps and clean up the mess!” I wanted to hear a snappy “Aye, aye, sir, I’ll get right on it.” No one but me around she said as she raised her wrist to her forehead.
“What am I going to do?” she said her voice rising in panic.
Help me, Lord, I don’t want to play 20 questions now.
“Do you have water in your basement?” That’s one.
“Yes, the water is seeping under the cellar door. Oh what should I do?”
I thought of several answers. Drop back fifteen and punt. Bend over and kiss your ( ! ) goodbye. Sing Nearer My God to Thee… Sell the damn house and move in with your daughter…
“Should I turn off the furnace?” she said interrupting my clever musings.
“Your furnace is on blocks, right?” Two
“Is the water up to the blocks?” Three
“Has the water reached the blocks?” Four
“No, the water is just seeping under the cellar door.”
“Then for Gawdsakes don’t turn the furnace off.”
“Oh, what should I do.”
“Do you have a shop vac?” Five I almost started to sing the ditty from an old McDonald's commercial. Grab a bucket and mop...
I almost started to sing the ditty from an old McDonald's commercial. Grab a bucket and mop...
“Yes, but my son took it.”
Figures. At this point, I didn’t want to be helpful. I wanted to be the kid and to call some adult to come and take care of my problem. I no longer wanted to be the designated adult.
“Call your daughter and have your son in law come down to help you out. Look my moat is overflowing and I have to go.”
Friday morning, I had dropped the Young One off at school. Showered, and was having a cup of tea and playing on the computer killing time until it was time to leave to pick the Eldest up from her college. She wanted to come home for the long, holiday weekend.
The phone rang. It was Prissy.
“Is your refrigerator running?”
At first I thought she was joking. Like the prank telephone calls we played as kids. Is your refrigerator running? You better run after it. I heard a note of panic in her voice.
“My refrigerator is running.”
“Yeah, they do that.”“It doesn’t shut off. What should I do?”
Buy a new one?
“What if it stops?”
“At least it’s a good time of year if it does. You can put all your food on the porch.” I said helpfully.
Evidently my suggestion wasn’t good enough. She wanted me to go over, but I had to leave to pick up The Eldest.
While taking a break before I had to cook supper, the phone rang. Prissy, again.
“Is your refrigerator running?”
“Yes, it does that from time to time.”
“Does it shut off.”
“Yes, after it goes through it’s cycle.”
“Mine doesn’t. What should I do?”
I was so tempted to say “Pretend I’m dead.”