I woke up my daughter this
morning and she immediately said she needed a certain piece of clothing that
had no appropriate substitute. Did she tell me last night, when I would have
instructed her to put the wet load of wash into the dryer? No. I
run to the basement grumbling about being a slave to my children and search
through a wet load of clothes for the item, so that I could throw into the
dryer for 15 or 20 minutes.
At that point, I noticed a
puddle of water around the drain on the basement floor. I know that’s not
good. The last time there was water, it was about three inches deep,
thanks to a broken sump pump. But wait, we have a battery backup sump
pump. What the heck? I run upstairs and tell Matt, who’s in the
shower. Then I let daughter know her clothing is in the dryer.
Matt finishes his
shower, goes downstairs, says some choice words, puts on his coat and goes
outside. I go down to the basement to remove stuff from the floor, in
case the whole thing floods. Suddenly, the pipe on the sump pump lets go,
shooting ice cold water in all directions. I run upstairs and shout to
Matt that there’s water flying all over the place. I go back to the
basement, grab a towel and charge the pipe, wrapping the towel around it so the
water is at least contained. Matt comes down with a shop vac, which he
tries to squeeze past me. After doing a little dance in front of the
utility tub, he manages to plug in the shop vac so it can start sucking up
water off the floor.
Unfortunately, the shop vac
is not sucking up any water. Matt unplugs the sump pump so that it’s no
longer squirting water, but now we have to worry about more water coming up
from the drain. I have to make sure the girls are still getting ready for
school, and I implore them to please just get ready and don’t gripe about
anything. This would so be the wrong morning for griping. I also
call the emergency plumber, because of course it’s only 6:30 am. Matt is
trying to cut some PVC pipe to replace the broken pipe. He puts it into
place, turns on the sump pump, and bam! Water squirting everywhere
again. Crud. It turns out that he needs a special piece with a
little collar on one end. The piece would cost about $10 at the hardware
store, but the emergency plumber is already on the way.
Matt discovers that a small hole in the shop vac is affecting its suction, so
he manages to suck up the water by holding his hand over the hole. I take
one kid to the bus stop and get the other off to school in the spare car.
The phone rings. It’s the plumber. All of the technicians are out
on runs already, but we’re first in line for the next available tech.
Lovely. I change out of my wet pajamas and socks. Things seem to be
OK down there; the water’s all gone and the pump is ready for its new piece.
Some $442 later, we have a working sump pump. More importantly, Matt and
I didn’t kill each other.
I think that’s what the minister was talking about when he
made us promise “for better or for worse.” When you’re both covered in
ice cold water, yelling and cursing and trying to make sure the kids get to
school and nobody steps on the cats and you’re spending money you don’t
have – that’s what you signed up for. That’s marriage. I’m
glad I didn’t have to do this alone.
