Going out to local establishments is a favorite of mine. Probably why I started a blog devoted to writing up my thoughts about my visits. But, every now and then a business walks into your home. Sometimes those are not fantastic experiences. Sometimes they are. I am about to tell you about a really bad experience and a really good experience.
The wife and I came home from a recent weekend getaway and immediately thought something was different the moment we walked thru the door of our home. Looking around, the room wasn’t any different. Nothing was out of place. It wasn’t that the home had appeared to have been entered while we were gone. We didn’t hear anything in the house that left us confused. We weren’t seeing something that left us scratching our heads. It was what we smelled. Something didn’t smell right. The air smelled dank. Damp. Musty. We began looking around and everything appeared to be fine. We looked at each other scratching our heads. THEN, we decided to go take a look in the basement.
The moment that I thought of the basement, a big “OH NO” thundered thru the fibers of my being. You know that moment when you’re filled with dread? The worst possible scenario? Yup, I was living in it and I hadn’t even rounded the corner of the stairwell.
My wife beat me to it. The gasp as she walked down the stairs and turned the corner told me that I needed to make a run for it. I fought my inner selfishness and decided that I would summon up the courage to take charge of the situation. Besides, if I take charge, then that meant I could delegate the clean up to my wife, correct? Wrong.
The site that greeted me as I timidly followed in her footsteps was astonishing. Our (thankfully) unfinished basement easily had a couple of inches of water standing across the entire slab of concrete. Pulling my shoes and socks off and rolling my pants up, the only logical thing to do was to jump down into it and splash around for a few minutes! Just kidding, I definitely didn’t do that.
The Scratching Our Heads Period
So, we scratched our heads…what’s wrong with that?! I’m not a DIY-er. I’m not a Mr. Fix-It. I don’t know the difference between a wrench and pliers, a hammer and a screw driver, a stiff drink and a wine cooler… Okay, I’m wrong there. I definitely know the difference between those two, because I know that in a situation like this, the first solution is a stiff drink! “Vodka straight, please?” Wife didn’t want to play bartender, so looks like I am off to pour.
I don’t know what happened downstairs, but I know “turn around don’t drown.” So I hightailed it up to the safety of drowning myself in Smirnoff, one responsible glass at a time. Only, a mason jar is generally not considered an appropriate shot glass size. So what, right?
Look, I don’t have to be Jacques Cousteau to know that this was one sea bed that I was going to get to the bottom of. So, I picked up the trusty old water-proof phone and started doing my research.
To dampen the story a bit (see what I did there), I made a call to our insurance company, and to our local Roto-Rooter. When all was said and done, we had a water line that ran thru the concrete floor that busted. By all accounts, there was nothing that should have caused it to do that, but it did. We hired Roto-Rooter to repair the slab leak in our basement. The guys at Roto-Rooter did an absolutely fantastic job and were very knowledgable about what had happened and how to fix it. I know that (heaven forbid) I ever have to hire a local plumber again, it will be guys at Roto-Rooter!