Tuesday, November 27, 2012

We're Sinking ...Pass the Wine, So I Have Something To Hold On To

I wrote you a song. It's called, "You Ate So Much, the House Caved In."

Morning Readers,

I once read a statistic saying one-hundred-percent of houses tend to age at some point in their life.  And, I don't know about you, but I tend to take the inside of Dove wrappers very seriously.

I also take chocolate very seriously, so there's that.

Not surprisingly, the Split-level finally decided to age. From recent developments, I'm fairly confident it woke up one morning, looked around and thought, "Hmm, 1969 seems to be over. This place could use some cracks. Not actual crack. I'm not that type of house, but a few chasms, here and there, couldn't hurt."

And so it goes. This weekend, Husband and I did our part explaining to our family what seems to be the problem:

Family: So, how is everything?

Husband: Nothing much. The house is caving in.

Family: Caving in?

Me: Well, honey, that's a little dramatic. I'd describe it more of a slow decent.

Family: Wait ...what? You're house is sinking into the ground?

Me: No, that's silly. Only half of it is.

Family: What do you mean, "half"?

Me: Don't worry, it's just the upstairs. Which is great because we only use that part of the house to sleep in. Which, when you think about it, is only eight or nine hours a day. Except when we nap. Then you have to factor in three or four additional.

Family: How do you know it's sinking?

Me: The support beam in the garage started sinking after the drought. And that's "drought" not "trout". One's a fish.

Family: And you say you're seeing cracks?

Me: Yep.

Family: Big ones?

Me: I saw a faun jump out of the one in my room. Which means we not only have to patch, but we also have a gateway into Narnia to consider. That's a lot of Spackle.


So, this morning, after convincing the twins that sitting still is all the rage this year, and putting Doc down for a nap, I made the all-important phone call.

"Hello, engineer's office."

"Fix it."

"What do you need fixed, Mam?"

"Fix it."

"Is it structural?"

"Fix it."

"When are you free to have us come out to your home?"

"Fix it. I'll give you some money."

And there we are. The house has decided to settle, but we haven't. Because we don't settle. We put paper with the twin's drawings over those cracks until someone comes to rescue us from the drywall ...and the fauns.

Until Next Time, Readers!