Our house is showing its seasonal colors and has once again proved to be a whore to Mother Nature. Little more than twenty four hours after our insulation project, it decided to stamp its foot and declare "I will not be kept from my lady love!"
Apparently the liaison was set for Sunday night. At around eleven, rainwater began pouring into the basement from several weaknesses in the foundation. Little freshets came bubbling up through cracks in the floor and the french drains flooded their banks in passionate excesses. Paint buckets floated and butted together for little kisses. I saw a Coke can paddling its way towards a midnight meeting with a bottle of Dawn behind the washing machines. And we stood in shock like offended clergy, past our ankles in water, as everything spun and bobbed in indecorous riot.
All I could do was wait for the exodus of prudish silverfish that was sure to make its way upstairs and into my slippers.
1 comment:
Mother Nature served up a bowl of basement soup for us as well. Such are the risks of old Buffalo houses, I suppose.
I always used to find silverfish at the bottommost depths of my bucket o' legos. Maybe we can devise some sneaky trap involving pesticides and spare six-piecers.
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