The other night I decided to be brave and go into my basement by myself. My parents were Pug sitting, and I had a pile of laundry to do.
Plus, I needed to wash clothes to wear to work.
I got this!
My basement is unfinished and mildly creepy. It wasn't the creepiest basement I toured while house hunting, but it's definitely not my favorite part of my house.
Anyway, I dug out some cool old jars to clean up, threw a load of towels that I killed spiders with into the washing machine, and headed upstairs.
An hour later, I went downstairs again.
My towels were clean, but my basement was filled with water.
Ah crap. Life never works out as planned.
I did what any other adult would do. I called my parents. Multiple times. And when they didn't answer, I called my brother, who did answer and came right over.
He cleaned it up and we both decided the water was coming from the toilet downstairs, not the washing machine.
Yes, that's right. Somehow I managed to wash clothes and flood my toilet at the same time. But my brother made a good point: "It smells like soap, not shit. I think it'll be fine."
I called a plumber first thing yesterday morning morning, and he spent a couple hours making really ominous sounds in my basement.
A plus, though, is that I got to clean and sort more while he was working. I pulled out my checkbook as he was leaving and he stopped me. I'll be billed, he said.
And then I made really ominous noises.
Oh well. Clean clothes are pretty important, so I'll open my checkbook up for that.
Who knows what other problems my house has. I don't really want to talk about the cat pee carpet upstairs, the gross garage that needs about a week of deep cleaning, the phantom ceiling fan that doesn't shut off, or the wonky electrical issues going on.
And to think, this is only week one. Hooray home ownership!
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