My bubble-gum repair, which is amazingly still holding up after almost a week has gone by, is a cry for help in the battle of home ownership. Desperate times; desperate measures and all that.
Tomorrow I have the privilege of having several plumbers come and give me estimates for re-plumbing our house in anything other than copper pipes. I'd take a Roman aqueduct as a replacement at this point.
To add to the fun, just before the latest leak, my washing machine decided to break....not all the way, mind you. No, it still works, but only on medium loads.....every other Monday. It refuses to spin consistently, waiting until Venus and Mercury are properly aligned before choosing to put forth an effort. It's like my first car; it functions, but you have to know all the secrets and tricks to get it going. It's useless in inexperienced hands.
The most frustrating thing for me is rooted firmly in my own superficiality. For several years I have been wanting to update our house; new sofa, repainting outside and in, redo the bathrooms..etc. I've wanted to make our home more like Better Homes and Gardens, and less like Hand-Me-Down Chic. I resent having to spend so much money on practical things like roofs, air conditioners, and new plumbing. I want hard-wood floors and a new sofa, not PVC pipes.
Yet, every time I get to the point of moving forward with a home improvement project, instead of home repair projects, one of these "events" happens. It's like the house is secretly listening to my plans and finds ways to divert the resources for its own structural good, leaving my grandiose decorating plans in the dust.
At any moment I expect to see the walls breathing like all the houses in the numerous B horror movies I watched as a child....Amityville eyes and all.