Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but only a tiny little one. It’s more like the house is a toddler- or a teenager- having temper tantrums every time we try to do things differently from how its used to.
This is a picture I sent to our contractor when we realized that every time we shower, run the bath to wash paintbrushes, or attempt laundry the downstairs floods. You can kind of get a sense of it from the wet on the carpet of the scope- around the corner is a bigger room and a bathroom, both of which also contained about an inch of water. And, of course, it invaded the laundry room to the right there as well. Basically three-quarters of our downstairs maintained a nice, damp status for about a week.
Before the flooding we discovered that the upstairs toilet wasn’t actually connected to anything, so it flushed directly into the garage. And the dishwasher the bank had put in wasn’t hooked up correctly, so if anyone had touched it while it was running and they had wet hands it could have killed them. And now that we’ve solved the flooding problem, it turns out that none of the pipes that- of course- run under our driveway and garage to connect the house to the pubic sewer line are actually connected in any way.
So the house is fighting us and our residency as hard as it can, but I feel like we must have finally hit the lowest possible trough. I mean, they’re digging up the driveway, it can’t possibly get any worse from here, right?
In the mean time, the electrician has declared everything else in the house perfectly fine so he’s going to start putting in new plugs and stuff. And we moved all our boxes that were stored at my mom’s house into the master bedroom here, so all that’s left is our belongings in storage. We’re even sleeping on a futon now, instead of a blow up mattress! If you can’t call that progress, I don’t know what is.
Any of you have any home renovation or house buying horror stories? I’d love to hear them! Solidarity!
PS. My manuscript is at 61,041 words!