Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Tin Roof, Rusty

“What a way to go, in a bubble bath with candles and a caved-in ceiling,” I thought while I enjoyed my moment. It had been one of those days with the kids fighting over everything from “her donut is bigger than mine” to “I want to carry the flashlight.” After getting those little people who call me mom, mommy, mamo, or mama down to sleep, I just wanted to settle into a nice, warm bubble bath.

But things didn’t go quite as planned. I had the water running and needed a candle to go along with the solace. Off I scurried down the stairs to our kitchen to get a match. Back upstairs in my goddess oasis (the bathroom), my feet were met with slush slush slush. The faucet had somehow wiggled around to face out of the back of our claw foot tub. It was running full force all over the floor.

Into action I went with phase I: Towels on floor to soak up the mess and down to the laundry room to wash it all away. However, on the way to the washing machine, there was water dripping out of the kitchen ceiling. Uh oh.

Phase two: Gather basin to collect drips, put out pots, pans and measuring cups. Notice that the water is rusty brown and inching closer to the light.

Phase three: Get in bath, enjoy the moment and know that if I crashed through the floor, what a way to go.

Drip, thump thump, ding, ding. It is quite musical hearing the remnants of my luxury. The ceiling of our kitchen is the original tin, 125 years old. "The insurance will cover the damages," I tell myself. Dan is about to come home from a boys weekend trip in Oregon and he's been traveling for 12 hours. What a wonderful reception for him. I wait up in my new silky gown and matching robe. Might as well look like a goddess, whether I have to run out of the house for help or into a Dan hug upon his return to our -- love shack, baby love shack. Tin roof, rusty! (How cool that I get to use that line from the B52's, in context?!)

What a way to go.
You've probably heard me chat about my NY city weekends to attend my friend Mama Gena's School of Womanly Arts. Now, I'm posting a blog entry about working the tools. For more "goddess" stories, go to There is a monthly membership fee but well worth it! Mwah!

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