Unbefuckingleivable. Stuff like this ALWAYS happens to us. We get a bit of a windfall, say such as a tax refund, and some shit in the house goes "kablooie!" That's what happens when you buy a money pit.
I'm not sure when this happened. All I know is that yesterday I was in the kitchen making a sandwich and it felt as if there was water coming through my socks. I squatted down to the floor to see if Puffy Savage had done her business in the kitchen and didn't see any puddles. Cool. I went on about my business (business involving roast beef). Water on the kitchen floor really isn't that big of a deal - maybe I had sprayed a little when I was filling the tea kettle or something, who knows?
Later on, I walked through the kitchen again and AGAIN felt my socks get wet. This time I noticed that the linoleum tiles (shut up - we didn't pick them) in front of the refrigerator were peeling up. I was pissed. I have people coming over on Friday. I pushed it down with my foot and figured I'd cover it with the rug if need be. Then, the little "common sense" center of my brain kicked on and said "Dumb-ass, LOOK UNDER THE FUCKING TILE." So I did that. Twice. Didn't see what the big deal was. After my third cup of tea I put one and one together and finally figured out that the fridge was leaking and the subfloor was soaked.
Heh heh, here's the funny thing. You're going to laugh now. Monday when Scott came home, he asked me if I'd spilled some water on the floor. I answered "Yes." He asked how much. I gave him stink-eye. What difference did it make? I spilled about a quarter of a cup of water on the carpet in the t.v. room while Roland and I were watching Star Trek. I dabbed it up and moved the ottoman over it. I didn't think it was that big of a deal.
So...our lines got crossed. He thought that I had spilled water on the KITCHEN floor and I thought he was making a big stink out of a spill on the T.V. ROOM floor. So...overnight the area got even more wet.
Oops.
You know how normally you can go into the yellowpages, call a service guy, and expect him to be out the SAME FUCKING DAY? Because THAT'S WHAT THEY DO? Because stuff like this is EMERGENCY-LIKE? Yeah, well, they don't give a shit about you. They don't return your calls, they don't drive out to Durham, and they don't come out the same day.
"I'll be out tomorrow. Between 10 and 1."
Fuckers. So, now I have a booby-trapped refrigerator that we can't unplug because there's frozen breast milk and too much food to waste in there.
When we sell this house, I'm going to make sure we replace the fridge first, even if it's just a cheap contractor's model. I don't know what we did to deserve these home improvement nightmares, but I hope our karma is better than the previous owners of this house for wanting to fix them before we sell.
Posted by Tiffany at February 28, 2007 10:38 AM | TrackBack