being home alone for seventeen days without a fiasco is asking way too much of me.
and although i was almost there, on day sixteen the catastrophe occurred.
last time it was a tree limb the size of manhattan that fell across the patio and garden.
this time it was a blown pipe in the basement.
and boy do i hate that, with that god awful "what the f*ck?" sound, followed closely by that "holy sh*t!" discovery.
i went from chillin' to lunaticin' in about 1.53 seconds, knocking .17 off my best time to date.
and let me tell you, when there is water gushing all about in places and ways it shouldn't, well, lunaticin' is about the best made up word i can muster to express what i become.
should i turn on the light?
no! i'll get electricuted!
where's it coming from?!!?
oh please, stop!
please oh please oh f'in please stop!
shut it down!
that's it!
shut it down!
follow the pipes!
just follow the f'in pipes!
oh this isn't good at all!
i believe i'm empting the county reservoir!
that's what i believe is going on here!
source, source, where's the f'in source?
there!
just turn the goddam thingamabob!
will they all know i loved them?
oh i hope i don't bloat up by the time they find me.
that's so not a good look!
are my underpants clean?
oh please turn!
turn goddammit!
there!
yes! yes! yes!
i am legend!
needless to say, once i was able to stop the flood and calm down, all was corrected in short order by our master plumber, ramsey & ramsey (even though i think there is just one ramsey).
in the end, i was fortunate.
you can say what you want about the french but they know how to build drains.
most of the water went directly back to the place from where it came.
the carpet took on some but in a manageable spot.
all should be dry by the time the bosses return from their trip.
and much like the fallen branch, they will not be the wiser.
more importantly, i will have dodged a frozen pork chop—making this just another private chapter in bob's home alone adventures.
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