Water leaks, Oral Surgery and the In-Laws....

We have now properly fixed the leak, have no more teeth problems and the in-laws have left.

We kicked off the weekend with a wonderful plumbing leak. Never had one of those before, but it begs the question, why do bad things, GERM-RIDDEN events, happen to good people.

I came home from, something, can't quite remember at this time, to find a little puddle of water in the kitchen next to the wall. I went through the usual questions, "Kaydn Rye, you didn't potty on the floor, did you? And Gertie, you didn't potty either did you?"

After some thought about the events of the day, Kaydn Rye officially ruled out that he had pottied on the floor and Gertie gave me a look like, "Wasn't me, man."

It was then that I looked up, and sure enough, the water was dripping down the wall. I immediately started tearing down the kitchen ceiling tiles like some kind of crazy monkey at the zoo, and realized yep, that pipe is definitely leaking.

The question then becomes, so what kind of water exactly is coming out of that pipe? I tried not to have a panic attack, wiped up the water, and stuffed a towel (now appropriately sitting in the landfill) up there until hubby could come home.

My fears were confirmed when yes, of course it would be the drain pipe from the bathroom that would be leaking. So I had a grand mixture of used sink, tub and toilet water in my kitchen.

After a few breathing exercises, I was doing alright, until hubby fully assessed the situation and concluded that the pipe would need to be snaked before we could fix it.

A plumbing "snake" as everyone calls it, seems to be an item that one should purchase, use once and then burn. But to avoid the $500 we'd probably spend on this magical piece of plumbing equipment, my husband decided to rent one from the hardware store. If only that snake could talk.....

So while he's dragging the thing up my beautiful hardwood stairway to the upstairs bathroom, I am right behind him disinfecting every surface that may or not be contaminated.

He then proceeds to rip up the toilet and snake the pipe through the toilet, and after standing in water only fit for the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, he then thinks he's going to walk down the basement to see if he made it through the entire pipe with the snake.

My immediate reaction to this?

STOPPPPPPPP! WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?? YOU HAVE CROSSED INTO THE CONTAMINATION ZONE AND NOW YOU CANNOT LEAVE WITHOUT SETTING YOURSELF ON FIRE!

I don't know what disturbs me more, the fact that his feet were covered in toilet germs, or the fact that he was okay with just walking down the stairs, through the kitchen and down to the basement while defiling the entire house with toilet water.

But the toilet was in the tub and he made it clear that he was not going to try and wrangle each of his 100 pound legs in the bathroom sink to hose them off.

I think he used some choice phrases including the words, "Crazy, need therapy, little blue pills, psycho," or something along those lines.

But we ended up fixing the problem with some $7 goop at the hardware store and the contamination zones have now been purified.

Then the in-laws came. I have taken more time off of work this summer to galavant that I was in no position to take any more time off, so it was pretty boring around here. Nothing much to see except me sitting at the computer writing about jury verdicts in botched tummy tuck cases. Pretty exciting stuff.

And just when the in-laws were on their way back to Idaho and Kaydn Rye was all nestled into his preschool routine so that I could actually have a few hours to myself after a summer rife with moments in which Kaydn Rye literally sat with his elbows on my desk, watching, and waiting for me to be done with work for the day so we could "go play," well, that's when I get a call from hubby that went something like this:

"Um, I saw the dentist for my toothache, I'm in Minot (55 minutes away) at the oral surgeon office and they're going to need to put me out for surgery, so you're going to have to come get me cause I won't be able to drive."

My response, "It's just a tooth pulling, can't you just get some novocaine and be good to go?"

Needless to say, that didn't go over well and I ended up making the hour trek to town to load up hubby, who was mumbling something about driving a bobcat or a tractor or something. Not sure what was going on there. He was pretty happy though, apparently the drugs made him forget all about the screaming incident in the bathroom with the toilet water.

Actually the tooth pulling went well. You just never know with hubby, he'll maybe say, "the pain is like a 9 one the pain scale," but really, what is a 9, in his mind exactly? For all I know his 9 is maybe more like a 2, you just never can know. But I made sure he took at least the minimum dosing of his vicodin (who gets a vicodin prescription for a measly tooth pulling anyway??) so that I wouldn't be awake all night with his pain moanings. And I was perfectly honest in telling him that I needed him to take the pain medication not for his own sake but for mine, I was going to sleep that night, and I was going to sleep good. And I did, and it felt good. I went to bed that night with all the hope of a new day with no interruptions, no teeth pulling, no water leaks and no decontamination procedures.




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