Sunday we drove up to our old house, the one that’s for sale, to find water running out the garage door. I thought, “Oh, crap. The water heater broke.” But nothing was in the garage that could be too damaged by water. It would be a pain to clean up and replace, but doable.
Until we lifted the garage door.
And water was pouring off it.
And off the garage ceiling.
A burst pipe?
What I want to know is, if it’s raining, where’s the rainbow?
Can’t wait to see our water bill this month.
Apparently (and I’m going to use passive voice here since the perpetrator is unknown) the master bathtub was stopped up and the faucet turned on full blast sometime twelve or eighteen hours previously.
Okay, I’ve said before my life is fodder for my blog. And then the other day I was saying I had nothing to blog about. But really, God, I could have done with something far less dramatic. Or something that was good news . . . like a book contract.
Can’t wait to see what our water bill is this month.
Oh, and I guess the house is off the market.