The building that contains the Fry manse has had a tough winter. First the heat was kaput for several days. Now, following the season’s 242nd blizzard, the roof is leaking. Through a quirk of intrabuilding geography that I find less than delightful, the water’s chosen route was to descend three floors and pool atop our bathroom ceiling. Cue a leak and, after two days of soaked sheetrock, the inevitable. Which came at 4:15 a.m., as these things do.
WHAM!
Emily (groggily): What the hell was that?
Me: I’m gonna assume the bathroom ceiling.
Correct. Which at the time seemed like a good thing: The water had eliminated that pesky sheetrock from its path, we had a bucket, etc. But no. Now the water is descending an additional floor and pooling atop our downstairs bathroom ceiling.
Being a Mets fan here is somewhat helpful in making predictions: The upstairs bathroom ceiling is done collapsing; the downstairs ceiling is up 3 1/2 with 17 games to play.
And yet, as I sit here in the bowels of my snowbound, falling-apart house, I’m … happy.
And why is that? Because tomorrow the Mets play the Braves, and things like 1:10 and 7:10 and Ws and Ls and SNY return to my lexicon. It’ll just be a small step closer to spring, but it’ll feel like a giant leap. And while ceilings may still be falling, I’ll no longer feel like the sky is, too. Hang in there, everybody. We’ve almost made it.
No site gets me as excited about the new season as this one. Between you and Greg, you hit the nail on the head. No matter what is happening in our lives, we’ve got a real live NY Met game today – no matter how meaningless.
Sorry to hear about your troubles. I feel your pain – have the reverse here…..2 foot of water in the basement. There’s just no where for all this rain and snow to go anymore…..
Thank GOD for the sump pump, or we’d be drowning as well.
PS — THis is my 1st day back at work since Wednesday: 2 snow days, 1 funeral.