Living in an old house (c. 1908), one is always on the lookout for the odd and the unexpected. Last summer it was a slumping foundation, evidenced by slowly (by the millimeter) widening cracks at crucial points of connection. There ensued excavation and a spreading-out of loads and sacks of cement dragged in and finally, just as the autumn rains set in, the trenches were filled-in, the splitting and separating halted. Alas, the garden still awaits reconstruction, and if the weather cooperates, I'll get to it this weekend.
Tonight, in the basement (the subterranean vaults of my subconscious), I noticed that Things Were Wet where things weren't supposed to be wet. I thought: cat? (One old cat has sworn off his litter box. Naughty beast!) But the tell-tale scent was absent: good thing. Backed-up floor drain? Didn't I just have that snaked-out? By my nephew and his truck-full of marvelous plumbing tricks? Indeed I did.
Then I noticed that the washer drain hose, which is supposed to point down into the drain, was unhinged from its, um, well, rather primitive duct tape fastening, and was pointing up. Up and out of the sink. Onto the floor, across to a shelving unit: wet everything.
But clean! Yes! Clean and rinsed! Spring-time fresh!
Coming soon: The Ecosystem of the Uncleaned Gutter.