In case anyone has been keeping track, the official count of me being home and causing harm is 49 hours. I was home 49 hours before I caused household damage. This in the form of a nice FINGER HOLE in the ceiling.
Back in April, before we had the Great Whimsy Flood of 2009 (due to my stellar washing machine loading skills), we had another small leaking incident. This one was from the shower in our master bathroom. There was a crack in the fiberglass and some moisture got into the ceiling above the kitchen. Luckily we noticed it before too much time had passed, and with some quick thinking on Chip's part, we got the ceiling dried out. The one problem was that when we originally noticed the wet spot on the ceiling, Chip was investigating and sort of pushed his finger into the soft sheet rock and made an indentation.
It's been something we knew we needed to fix this summer. It requires painting. And patching.
Yesterday afternoon I was putting some mugs away in a cabinet while Alice was napping. Being a shorty, I was up on a chair - very close to the ceiling. And I looked at the little Chip-finger-indentation area on the ceiling and wanted to make sure it was still nice and dry. So I pushed. With my finger. On the finger-place. And then POP - I pushed my finger right through the ceiling.
There's nothing like making holes in your house. The only topper to that? Telling your husband about it.
It's something we need to fix this summer. It requires painting. And patching. And much less finger-pushing-through-the-ceiling.
Tell me: what's the worst thing you've ever damaged or broken at your house?
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oh the places you'll go
yours truly...
- Whimsy
- shortish. 40ish. north-central-washington-westernish. shares a smallish house with a lovely tallish manish person (husband), an adorable impish girlish person (daughter), a charming boyish person (son), and one 4-legged catish creature. if you'd care to contact Whimsy, you can reach her at whimsyattack at gmail dot com.
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thought
Alice came to a fork in the road.
"Which road do I take?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go?" responded the Cheshire cat.
"I don't know," Alice answered.
"Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
-Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
"Which road do I take?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go?" responded the Cheshire cat.
"I don't know," Alice answered.
"Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
-Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
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8 comments:
Ugh! I hate telling my husband about stupid stuff that I've done. Suddenly I feel like I'm an 8 year old who has to tell her father she broke the window with a baseball.
I think the worst thing I've done was backing into a tree and severely crumpling the fender of the car. I HATED telling him about that.
So far, nothing major. But I have broken three (THREE) water sprinklers. The last one was just a few weeks ago. I don't know how I do it, but I pick them up to move them to another area of the yard and SNAP!
Two things:
* When I was about 12 (so I didn't have to tell my husband about this one), someone was doing some work on our house so they shut off the water line. I was going to take a shower so I turned on the water - but nothing came out. Instead of twisting the knob back to the OFF position, I just walked out confused. Hours later (after the workmen had turned the line back on), when water started streaming through the ceiling into our kitchen, I was in major trouble.
* Before we were married, my husband upgraded from his old, rusty Toyota Corolla to his dream car - an Audi A4 (he's an awesome saver). Seriously LOVES this car. Shortly thereafter, we were married. One day, he back the car into the garage to load things into the trunk. However, he didn't pull it in completely due to the configuration of the garage. So, here I come home - and not noticing that the beautiful, shiny other love of his life was slightly jutting out of the garage, I flicked the button to close the garage. Yeah, and because the entire car was not jutting out, it didn't trip the sensors. When the garage came down on the hood and gave it a good scratch and dent, it automatically went back up as it did "sense" the impact. I didn't have to tell him - Dave immediately discovered it as he knew the position of the car and had heard the horrid sound of a closing garage door from the house. He had to excuse himself for a while to take deep breaths and not talk to me for some time. Needless to say, it's still a bit of a sore subject which I hope we can laugh about... someday.
Can't. Type. Laughing. Too. Hard.
Backing my suburban up into my husband's car. He watched it happen so there was no need to tell him!
no husband to be accountable to, but i have:
*broken roughly 56 wine glasses from various roommates
*smashed the front window of someone's house i was visiting, WITH MY SKULL
*pulled the entire front piece of the living room wall off - like, down to the cinderblock - by trying to close the blinds
And... we have a winner! Alice, you may not pay a visit to the Last Homely House, like, EVER!
I was getting ready to share my story and then I realized...I don't think I've broken anything. How sad is THAT?
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