It seemed fitting to title this "when it rains, it pours" being that lately, everything that can go wrong, has. But, being that one of those things going wrong is a leaky basement, I thought that more fitting.
I like owning a house. I like having four walls of our own (well, technically two, since we're attached on each side, but who's counting?). I like not having to write a cheque to a landlord. I don't like having to worry and pay for things when they go wrong. And right now, too much is going wrong. And it all has to do with the basement. We have a finished basement. Really nice for sitting around, for tv, for Emily to play, for us to veg. Not so nice when there is a leak in a wall that is now covered in insullation, drywall, and a fireplace. (If you look at the upper left corner in the picture below, you can see the carpet peeled back where the basement is leaking. We ended up having to peel back much more as the leak spread like the plague across the room.) The previous owners have told us that a crack was repaired there about 2 years ago and they left us the receipt (it should be under warranty, they said) but of course, we can't find the receipt. We're positive they didn't leave it behind for us. So, now we have to rely on the previous owners to find it in their stuff (hah) or rely on the company that did it to honour their work without a receipt from us (bigger hah).
Add to this the following: a perennial illness that is going from John to Emily to I like bumper cars, another leak in the basement that has stopped but has pointed to the fact that we must get our roof done this spring (question: where do you get $3-5000 when you aren't expecting it?), oh, and that minor one: Louise is shutting her daycare as of May 11 to go to teachers' college leaving us with 7.5 weeks to find new daycare. That's my favourite. Of course, not to mention that we're headed towards the poorhouse because of all of our debt and my foolish dream that I intend to make reality where I stop bringing in a meaningful salary in August and then stop bringing in one altogether the following August.
Yes, it would suck to live in Baghdad or Kandahar right now. It would also suck to have a terminal illness. I do have this in perspective but being that this is my problem right now, and after all, everything is about me, I think it sucks the most.
On the brighter side, we went to a sugar shack yesterday and Emily had her first sleigh ride. The highlight for her (apparently) was standing behind the horses and watching them poop (or, in her words "caca"). This was met with peels of laughter from Emily and a little embarassment from John - pride from me though. I'm so glad my daughter has inherited my appreciation for bum humour.
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