A Little Bit of Rain in the Living Room
Saturday morning I noticed Little Dog's shoes were in the middle of the living room...wet.
He claimed no knowledge of how they got wet and immediately accused the cats.
Now our cats have done some strange things and, in fact, have peed in some really annoying places. I still could not imagine why one of the cats would have peed on the top of Little Dog's Vans.
That was when I noticed it. The small wet spot on the ceiling. I stood on the coffee table to get a closer look and to touch it. Yup, definitely wet.
Now if I still owned and lived in the "hundred year old money pit" I would have cried. But, since I now LEASE from Bob, the best (and cutest) landlord in the world, I simply picked up the phone.
I can't blame him for being a bit skeptical. I did once call him because I had no hot water and the pipes were making a funny noise. That time, all he had to do was come over, walk into the kitchen, turn on the water and immediately I had silent pipes and scalding water.
Like I said, he is GOOD.
This time, however, I assured him it was not a figment of my imagination and I was not overreacting. I must add that he does take me seriously every since that carbon monoxide incident.
So, Bob came over armed with a flashlight and a stethoscope. Now even on a bad day I wouldn't turn down the chance to play doctor with Bob, but, alas, after a brief inquiry he explained that the stethoscope was for listening to the pipes in the walls.
The next hour consisted of me turning water on and off while Bob listened downstairs.
No drip.
We checked the shower, the sinks and the washing machine - none of which were anywhere near above the leak in the living room. We took turns listening at the walls.
Nada.
Bob wore a serious expression.
"You really have no idea at all do you?" I asked him.
"Nope."
He left me with instructions to keep an eye on it and let him know of it got worse. Meanwhile, he was going to take a look at the plumbing schematics on the blueprints for the building.
I think he was happy to be able to use the term "plumbing schematics" in everyday conversation.
That night it began to drip again. No one had used any water upstairs, but the drip was back nonetheless. I called and reported as much to Bob.
The next day was uneventful in the drip department. The dampness on the ceiling had grown and now included the drywall panel next to the drippy one and the paint had bubbled a bit.
On Monday Bob called me for an update. I told him not much change.
It's funny how calm I am now. If this had happened at the "hundred year old money pit" I would have been though all the stages of grief by now. I would have cried. I would have been angry. And I would have taken to bed for at least 24 hours.
When things like this happen it serves only to remind me that selling the house was a very good decision.
So now it's Tuesday and the drip has become constant - still just a drip, but it's kind of like a ticking clock in its regularity. I have even put a bucket underneath it. Oh, and some of the paint has actually bubbled up enough to break and hang in strips from the ceiling. It's really pretty ugly looking right now.
Bob came by tonight and we made plans to tear into the drywall tomorrow.
Until then, I am not bothered at all.
I Luuuuuurve being a renter!!!!!!
He claimed no knowledge of how they got wet and immediately accused the cats.
Now our cats have done some strange things and, in fact, have peed in some really annoying places. I still could not imagine why one of the cats would have peed on the top of Little Dog's Vans.
That was when I noticed it. The small wet spot on the ceiling. I stood on the coffee table to get a closer look and to touch it. Yup, definitely wet.
Now if I still owned and lived in the "hundred year old money pit" I would have cried. But, since I now LEASE from Bob, the best (and cutest) landlord in the world, I simply picked up the phone.
I can't blame him for being a bit skeptical. I did once call him because I had no hot water and the pipes were making a funny noise. That time, all he had to do was come over, walk into the kitchen, turn on the water and immediately I had silent pipes and scalding water.
Like I said, he is GOOD.
This time, however, I assured him it was not a figment of my imagination and I was not overreacting. I must add that he does take me seriously every since that carbon monoxide incident.
So, Bob came over armed with a flashlight and a stethoscope. Now even on a bad day I wouldn't turn down the chance to play doctor with Bob, but, alas, after a brief inquiry he explained that the stethoscope was for listening to the pipes in the walls.
The next hour consisted of me turning water on and off while Bob listened downstairs.
No drip.
We checked the shower, the sinks and the washing machine - none of which were anywhere near above the leak in the living room. We took turns listening at the walls.
Nada.
Bob wore a serious expression.
"You really have no idea at all do you?" I asked him.
"Nope."
He left me with instructions to keep an eye on it and let him know of it got worse. Meanwhile, he was going to take a look at the plumbing schematics on the blueprints for the building.
I think he was happy to be able to use the term "plumbing schematics" in everyday conversation.
That night it began to drip again. No one had used any water upstairs, but the drip was back nonetheless. I called and reported as much to Bob.
The next day was uneventful in the drip department. The dampness on the ceiling had grown and now included the drywall panel next to the drippy one and the paint had bubbled a bit.
On Monday Bob called me for an update. I told him not much change.
It's funny how calm I am now. If this had happened at the "hundred year old money pit" I would have been though all the stages of grief by now. I would have cried. I would have been angry. And I would have taken to bed for at least 24 hours.
When things like this happen it serves only to remind me that selling the house was a very good decision.
So now it's Tuesday and the drip has become constant - still just a drip, but it's kind of like a ticking clock in its regularity. I have even put a bucket underneath it. Oh, and some of the paint has actually bubbled up enough to break and hang in strips from the ceiling. It's really pretty ugly looking right now.
Bob came by tonight and we made plans to tear into the drywall tomorrow.
Until then, I am not bothered at all.
I Luuuuuurve being a renter!!!!!!
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