My house has more leaks than I do. This morning on a bright and sunny day, I heard the drip, drip, drip of disaster. The shelf above the kitchen door was leaking onto the mat. This was deeply mysterious, as the shelf holds baskets, and none of them are filled with water. Was it somehow the gutter outside? I left the french toast and went upstairs to the bathroom directly above. It looked dry. It's seldom used, as it is for the guest bedroom. We had no guests. I went back downstairs and did the logical thing: I put a pan under the leak and continued with the french toast. When my husband came down he was very calm. Strangely calm, you might say. He high tailed it to said bathroom and found the leak under the sink. He could not shut off the safety valve because that was what was leaking. Kind of like the oil explosion in the gulf. I called the trusty plumbing company, who know us intimately, and they will come out this afternoon (not likely, considering past experiences). I will be waiting. The bill will be depressing. We put a bigger pot under the sink, so my husband says I only have to empty it about every two hours. Oh, frabous day!
I'm beginning to think a well and outhouse would be a nice solution to this falling apart house. They could be made attractive. Morning glories draping the well and a wisteria covering the outhouse. I'm adaptable.
After all, when I get dressed up these days, it's similarly challenging. Must have sleeves to cover the arms, and a long skirt to hide the legs, as well as a scarf, hat and bright colors to distract from the basic deterioration. Flowy is good, as are earrings and glasses. And maybe a fleur motif to compare myself to a summer's garden. I need to hunt through the dressing up part of my closet for materials and disguises. Don't worry, I'll come out smelling like a rose.
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