It was one of those days. I had recently made a goal – move more – and I had just come back from the Y wishing I had moved less. I was sore all over. “Doesn’t it feel good, though?” I remember someone 20 years my senior trying to encourage me. I pushed my tennis shoes off with the toes on my other foot because I was so sore I didn’t want to be bothered by bending over and untying those tools of torture. ‘No,’ I decided. ‘This doesn’t feel good.’
As I threw my sweaty stinky clothes into a pile, I noticed that I had stains on them – it was like my stench wanted to be visibly noticed, too. Ugh. Groan. I just did the laundry, so it probably wasn’t a good idea just to leave it set in the laundry basket for another week like that waiting for the next load.
I heaved my body to the bathroom and turned the handle in the shower well to the left for a hot therapeutic shower. Then I reached for the faucet at the bathroom sink and turned it to cold (ice cold, because it was February in Indiana). I stopped the drain and deposited my stained garmets in the sink. I closed my eyes for five seconds and took a deep breath. ‘I can handle this.’
I figured, and I was right, that the shower temperature was now ready for me. As my eyelids lifted, so did the corners of my mouth. I pulled back the barrier between me and relaxation, and stepped inside my steamy bubble of restoration and inspiration. Oh yes, I get all my best ideas in the shower! I get all my best breakthroughs in the shower! I get all my best “ah-ha!” moments from God in the shower! I think it’s something about the white noise of the running water and the how the splashing heat undoes so much tension that I had carried with me since… well, my last shower!
This shower took longer, too, because I was trying to assess if my goal was even going make a difference in my life. I had so many other responsibilities on my plate and ideas that I wanted to tackle, and this was just eating up precious time in the middle of my most productive part of the day, and if it wasn’t going to work, then I should just give up now.
I told you… It was that kind of a day… And no, it didn’t feel good…
Before long guilt started nibbling away at my conscience regarding my water consumption. I had emotionally needed an extra-long hot shower, but practically it was time to bring this therapy session to a close. My hand reached for the handle and I turned it back to the right and off.
Or did I? What was that sound? It sounded like running water. I tested the handle again to make sure it was firmly in the O-F-F position, and it seemed to be. I should stop here and point out that I’m vertically challenged (aka, short) and extremely short sighted, so I couldn’t see if the water had stopped running or not. I waved my hand in front of the shower head, but I didn’t feel any water coming out. It sounded so different than normal… Distant… But close… Closer than the dishwasher I was certain I hadn’t started that morning… Closer than the washing machine that has a “thump, thump, thump” sound which accompanies the sound of running water… Closer than the guest bathroom, which was currently void of any guests… It’s almost as if the sound was coming from…
I opened the shower and immediately the sound of running, splashing water got louder. I still couldn’t see anything, but the room was instantly chillier than a normal February morning. Even without my glasses, awareness dawned… I never turned off the sink faucet! It was still pouring out icy cold water on my goal-stained clothes!
I immediately hopped out of the shower to turn the faucet off. SPLASH! I got icy water splashed up to my knees when my feet hit the floor. WHAT? WHY?!?!?! Without moving my feet, I strained for the faucet, placing on hand firmly on the counter for balance and leverage. SPLASH! Icy water splashed up to my elbow and… SLIP! My hand slid off the counter at an unprecedented angle. WHAT? WHY?!?! With disregard to any further splashing, I turned the faucet off and made my way out of the bathroom and fumbled around for my glasses from the top of my dresser. As I turned around to see the situation in the bathroom clearly for the first time, I realized that I had created a water feature in our second-floor bathroom – complete with a waterfall and a retainer pond. Oh no…
I closed my eyes for five seconds and took a deep breath. ‘I can handle this.’
I opened my eyes and threw everything on the floor that was remotely absorbent and in reach. As the miracle of cotton did its job I decided to open the drawers under the sink and make sure they had been closed securely enough as to escape drenching. As soon as I pulled the first drawer open, all my makeup sloshed forward, carried by the mini tidal wave of force I had exacted on the FIVE INCHES OF WATER when I opened the drawer.
Groan. I closed my eyes for five more seconds and took a deep breath. ‘I can handle this.’
I had to find something for my feet and something to wrap around me because I knew I needed to dredge the wet-dry vac from the depths of the garage in order to take care of this waterlogged mishap. The only problem was I had thrown everything on the floor…
My solution was found in my husband’s closet, and so I proceeded downstairs – quite proud of myself for thinking of the wet-dry vac in the first place. Pride does indeed come before the fall, because as I reached the bottom step I almost slipped and fell… In the puddle at the bottom of the stairs… Which originated from the steady stream of water coming from the hallway light fixture directly above it… I was beginning to think I might not be able to handle this, but out loud I just said, “Note to self: do NOT turn that light on!” and on I continued to the garage.
I schlepped the wet-dry vac up the stairs, dropping a bucket off in the middle of the aforementioned puddle on the way. I let the wet dry vac fall on the floor just outside the bathroom with a thud – mostly because that’s what my attitude had done as soon as I stepped out of the shower – and plugged my hope for survival into a safe outlet. I was beginning to feel better as the nozzle chugged its way through the inches of water in the drawers – that is, until I turned around to turn the wet dry vac off and realized it was dispersing the water it had consumed through its seals and spraying it all over the carpet, increasing the water damage area. I did not want to add a water fountain to this unplanned water feature!
At this point, I have decided my goal – move more – was being achieved, but definitely not worth this. And I decided I needed to call my husband and bring him up to speed on the situation, still wondering how I even got myself into this situation!
To make a long story short, he came home from work and immediately disconnected the light fixture that had been leaking water from the bathroom above it, and aimed a fan at it to help dry it out. I heaved my waterlogged pile of everything from the floor to the washing machine (on the side, they were so waterlogged, that the washing machine sensor knew it didn’t need to “fill” as long as it normally takes to fill), and I went back to the clean-up effort still wondering what went so wrong?!
As I laid out my hair dryer and opened makeup pods in front of a fan and replaced the towels on the carpet for the fifth time, and started cleaning, the pieces started coming together (ironically as I was cleaning the shower – you know, where I get all my best “ah-ha!” moments):
- I had started the shower before I started the sink faucet,
- I took my glasses off to get into the shower, and therefore
- I couldn’t see or hear that the water was still running in the sink.
- I’d lost my train of thought because I was so consumed with how miserable I felt, and (most importantly),
- The sink did not have an emergency drain.
I couldn’t believe it! And then I just started laughing… and crying… and laughing… Because this whole incident is a metaphor for my life!!! Circumstances and emotions can pile up faster than you notice and leave you drowning (pardon the pun).
All this to say, friends, make sure your life comes with an emergency drain!
- Posted by hellobabs
- On March 29, 2018
- 0 Comment