Living

When it rains, it pours...Literally

Lately, I’ve been thinking that before Ben left for Afghanistan, he must have gone around our house, with a pen and paper, itemizing all the issues our house was going to have over the next few months. I think he wrote them all down, estimated their cost, and the amount of stress they would induce, and then immediately went to work the next day and said, “I need to leave approx the end of April, before our house crumbles down around us.” Sneaky guy. I say this due to several “incidents” around the house that have left me nervously pacing around the house and repeatedly searching the pages of the checkbook to ensure I won’t have to sell Duncan to pay for the repairs (joke Duncs…I could never do it). A few weeks ago, many might remember the earthquake we had, followed by such torrential rain, I was sure I wouldn’t need to water the flowers for a week (another begrudging task for me). I stood and watched the rain for a few hours, thrilled that the little chore was being covered by mother nature. The next morning, I went downstairs to grab some laundry, only to notice I was stepping in about an inch of water. I should point out, ladies and gentlemen, that I finished that basement myself, with the help of my Dad and my friend Dan. Ben is about as handy as my right baby toe and really, I only use him to carry all the heavy things. Other than that, my friend, Dad and I put in the floor, put up the drywall, I did all the mudding…oh it was a labour of love and when it was all finished, I felt so proud. So here I was, so early in the a.m. that I believe was was only half dressed and still dripping water from my freshly washed hair, watching my hard work turn mushy and wet. I’m not going to lie, I sat on the floor, and cried. Hard. I immediately called in some foundation specialists who informed me that I would have to dig up the foundation in order to repair it. Furthermore, this gigantic alder tree right out front of my house (and it’s monstrous roots) were likely the cause of the foundation cracks. This would mean I would have to dig up the foundation, repair it, repave the whole driveway and have the tree cut down. Total cost, a tidy little sum of $9,000. On top of it all, later that evening, I went to vacuum the house, only to have the vacuum die in the middle of the action. What would I do?? How would I save my house from balls of Duncan floating all over? I decided to calm down over a nice juicy steak. Lo and behold, my BBQ lid fell off, unable to be repaired. How was I going to deal with all this alone? I’m pretty sure that the last time I put together a BBQ, it was so complicated that it took me three days, lots of tears, and two very dry martinis before it was properly assembled. I could not do that again. On top of it all, images of my lovely little garden (combined with my first successful attempt at growing anything) would now be daunted by the excavators backhoe. Suddenly, I felt I would welcome the task of watering them. I get it, world. Things are just not going my way. I roll over and submit defeat to life. Now I should point out, that rightfully so, when a member is overseas on a deployment, as Ben is, they receive extra money for being away from home, being in danger, and being in a foreign country. So we would be able to pay for everything in a relatively timely fashion without it causing too much financial strain. But as we all know, there were plans for that money…Vacations! Furniture! Debt! Oh, how quickly those plans went right out the window and into the foundation. So here I was, standing with the estimates in my hand, wondering how I would break the news to Ben, who does not deal well when he knows I am stressed, not to mention, when he is too far away to help. I told him over web cam, watching his face go into his hands and silence over our static connection for a good minute or two. Okay…maybe the silence was dotted with a few expletives but I don’t blame him. The good news is, all repairs are now complete, the driveway is paved and the tree guy comes next week to take out the beastly alder. In the meantime, everyday when I walk out to my car, I kick the stupid tree with the end of my combat boot, determined at the very least to give it a good dent. I curse it, swear a little, and give it dirty looks for causing all the problems and most of all, costing me what was going to be a very, lovely vacation. Kelly
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