"A man builds a fine house; and now he has a master, and a task for life; he is to furnish, watch, show it, and keep it in repair, the rest of his days."--Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ah, the joys of home ownership.
Earlier this year, I noticed signs in the bathroom of termites. Pretending that I did not see them, didn't make them disappear. Always my first plan of attack.
I checked with my friend Jason, a termite professional and he gave me some tips on how to deal with the little critters on my own.
Well, that worked like a lead balloon and when Mrs. Sneed, in her post-retirement closet cleaning frenzy, found even more significant damage, it was time to summon Jason for a house call.
|The section of wood floor that had to be removed so Jason could drill holes through the foundation.|
Visions of our house collapsing and the evaporation of our retirement funds danced through our heads. We have been know to be a bit dramatic from time to time. But, a section of wood floor removed, a hundred holes drilled into the foundation and 95 gallons of termite killer, saved the day (we hope). At least Jason gave me the special "friend" rate.
Our swell front-loading washing machine croaked on Thursday. It is just a year old.
Fortunately, the washer is still under warranty, and the repair outfit promised to come out yesterday (Saturday) to fix it. A nine-to-five appointment window was the best they could offer, so it fell to Mrs. Sneed to wait them out, because I had to work at the store.
|You can barely make out the giant pile of soggy clothes that are victims of the mid-cycle mishap.|
Of course, you see where this is headed. When I got home at 2pm and the guy hadn't showed, I figured I better call their office. They were closed.
I called an 800 number on our warranty info and the operator there was able to reach an after hours guy at the repair office. She left me on hold while he tried to reach the service man. Mr. Afterhours promised that he would call me back with an update, asap.
He never called back, the repairman never came and when I called the number for the after hours guy that I was given, his recording said that I had called after regular hours. No shit. I did leave a message that is sure to enrage and I hope, amuse him.
Mrs. Sneed awoke this morning to find a note affixed to the sink by our son which said, "Caution water!" The kitchen floor in front of the sink was soaked.
|I'm thinking of just leaving the bucket and closing the doors, but I'm guessing that will not be well-received.|
Evidently he discovered the problem overnight. At least he had the good sense not to wake me up over it.
The area under the sink is saturated and the kitchen faucet is leaking badly, so this afternoon I squeezed (or is it squoze?) my ampleness under the sink and tore things apart.
I can't figure out how to fix the leak, but I did order a new faucet online exactly like the one we have. I got it for about 40% of what the original cost 6 year ago because it is a close out. Plus it will be here on Tuesday afternoon. I could have probably gotten it locally tomorrow, but at twice the price, so an extra day won't kill us. Especially, since I have this cool temporary work around.
|It still leaks, but until the new one arrives, it is leaking into the sink.|
Screw you, Emerson.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky