This month we learn about melting snow . . . and spring rain . . . and how the slightest almost unnoticeable crack in a foundation allows for rivulets of fresh spring water–right across the basement floor.
I’m not complaining. I did say fresh spring water. In our previous home we dealt with the other kind of water–you know, the kind that gurgles backward up into the basement from sewer pipes blocked by tree roots and who knows what else. Trust me, this is much more pleasant. Not less wet, but at least not smelly and gross.
That said, it’s still water. Lest you think the house will crumble at any minute, it’s actually very solid, but those two minor cracks will definitely need to be patched. Tom says it’s easy (what a blessing to be married to a guy who, when any home repair comes along, says, “That’s easy”). So we trekked to town last weekend (past farmfields that might as well have been shallow lakes) and purchased those thingys that send water from the gutters out farther from the house. (I don’t know what they’re called. I just know what they look like.) And concrete patch. And whatever else hubby said he needed for this particular repair.
And also lest you think we experienced damage to our “stuff,” we were fortunate to have known of this slight water issue beforehand (I mean, we didn’t anticipate streams of water, but still we knew), and so everything in the basement is on shelves and off the floor. So as we mopped the water to the drain, the floor got a good cleaning.
See? Glass half full. That’s my motto.
I sit here this morning in our little country home with the snow finally melted, anticipating what perennials will peek out in the garden behind our house. The sun rises behind the trees across the field causing me to squint at the computer screen. A layer of fog makes its last stand.
Half full nothin’. My cup overflows.