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A couple weeks ago, after the plumbing nightmare, and the air conditioner failure, I silently wondered what the next house horror would be.  I incorrectly guessed something related to the wiring.  Last night, in the middle of the night, my hateful house answered my question.

At first, I thought the puddle of water on the bathroom floor was the result of my having not closed the shower curtain.  But I felt around the tub and it was dry.  When a drop of water hit my head, my heart sank.  A leaking roof was the last thing I expected, and the last thing I want.  The ceiling was saturated, the plaster breaking off in chunks.  So, before the sun rose this morning, I was up on the roof, in the high wind and driving rain, laying tarps over the roof.  Lord, was I dismayed!

But my preliminary survey of the attic was encouraging: there are no visible signs of water intrusion over a wide area of the sheathing.  Rather, I suspect that the leak is occurring where the vent stack comes in contact with the asphalt shingles. I will know for sure soon.  Meanwhile, I’d just like it to stop raining.

Stay tuned.

I was premature in declaring my plumbing problems ended.   Last weekend, after a long shower, I found the problem I had hoped had been resolved had, in fact, returned.  (Yes, I am aware the preceding is a terrible sentence.)  So, tomorrow afternoon between 2:00 and 4:00 in the PM, the plumbers will probably be ripping the yard apart to get to the cause of the clog.

When I arrived home from work tonight (after visiting the downtown farmers’ market and having dinner at The Top with Miriam), I found that GRU had paid us a visit and done some work in the yard.  There were tractor marks in the grass, and the yard had been dug up beneath the cedar tree.  I couldn’t find a clean-out, if one had, indeed, been installed.

I will spend all day tomorrow writing a paper and looking forward to being able to take a shower while simultaneously washing clothes, running the dishwasher, and flushing the toilet.

I think it may now be safe to say that our dire plumbing woes are behind us.  Several weeks ago, on a Saturday afternoon, the stoppage was almost total, and as we had a couple dozen guests coming over for dinner, it was crucial that something be done.  We had informed our visitors that they may have to hold it while at our house.  But I called Quality Plumbing out, and, though I feared what the bill would be at $170/hour, I had no other choice.  Rocky came out.  He was a younger fellow, but very nice.  He spent probably an hour and a half on the roof, and on hands and knees in the yard listening for the sound of his snake spinning in the drain.  After he felt like he’d done all he could, he announced that the total was only $112.  Our guests were relieved, so to speak, to have the toilet working again, and I was glad to be able to shower that night.  Almost a month later it’s still flowing smoothly.  Huzzah, Rocky, and Quality Plumbing!

When we bought our house four years ago, we used the back rooms as a staging area, bringing all our furniture and boxes there to be sorted before moving it to more appropriate rooms.  Unfortunately, it took us a long time before we got around to clearing out those boxes, and two rooms in our house were a mess for quite a while.  Eventually, we got organized, and we put in new floors and painted the walls and ceiling, and that was pretty good.  Then Miriam found some wallpaper she really liked and she asked me to put it in.  I spent my Christmas break last December putting that up.  Knowing that I’d later be installing paneling to the bottom of the walls, I left the wallpaper covering only the top two thirds.  It looked silly for a couple months.

My spring break began a week ago, and I spent it installing paneling and a chair rail.  It involved dozens of precise measurements and intricate cuts, but by last Saturday I was putting the finishing touch on the paint.  It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself, and is by far the most cheerful room in the house.  During all my labors I regreted not being able to relax on the sofa–and I missed a couple chances to go to the beach–but, having now finished, I feel satisified.

Things are steadily improving around here.

The toilet nightmare which began on the 23rd seems to have ended.  Early that Tuesday morning I awoke to an overflowing commode.  Tuesday is my long day; my first class begins at 8:3o AM, and my last class ends at 7:00PM.  But I went to Lowe’s that morning at seven o’clock in the morning, stopped at Walgreen’s to get some medicine for the ailing Mrs. Hill, and did my best to repair the toilet before school.  But I ran out of time before I needed to leave.  I took a brutal midterm in the afternoon, and was preparing to head to my evening class when Miriam told me they were sending her to the hospital because her symptoms suggested possible appendicitis.  It wasn’t, thank goodness, and my professor was understanding when I wrote to him later.  But the toilet defeated me that night.  And when I reached the point of maximum frustration–when I stood in the doorway of my bathroom, staring at that filthy sewer hole in the floor with the roaches crawling out–I was on the verge of tears.

It was emasculating to have to call a plumber, and I worked all day Wednesday, so it was Thursday afternoon before anyone could come out.

Meanwhile, we spent Wednesday night at Sweetwater Branch Inn, in the charming 1895 McKenzie House.  The Giovanna Room was delightful, and Cornelia, who makes the breakfast the bed comes with, was very sweet.  In spite of the horrible circumstances, I still had a nice time, and would like to go back some day.

Sara was nice enough to offer to wait for the plumber for me, and he was a nice guy, too.  I was going to have him repair the rusted out cast iron flange the toilet gets bolted to, but he told me I could do it myself and save hundreds.  He told me what I needed to buy, I went to Home Depot, bought it, and had the toilet together by the time Miriam got home from work.  All was well.  Until this past Thursday night.

Thursday night, following a brutal midterm in my Early U.S. Novels course, I took a long shower, and was just beginning to mentally transition into spring break.  After I got out of the shower I flushed the toilet, and it happened again.  The plumber came back out on Friday afternoon, but I missed a chance to go to the beach with Sara.  I’ve talked to both my neighbors, and they, too, have experienced the same problem.  I am going to call GRU on Monday and have them install a clean out by the street, so if I have another blockage I might be able to clear it myself with a rented auger.  I put the toilet in place, caulked it really well, and, as of Saturday night it is doing its job.

And Miriam’s all better.