Oh boy. It has been a busy few weeks around here. Busy, but good. I’ve been busy, but happy.
Happy, that is, until Sunday night, when the living room ceiling started dripping water.
I think a bit of a back story is needed to set the scene here. Mark is away on a ski trip with his students. I was scheduled to work evenings all weekend. When we first heard about this ski trip, I wanted to come along with him; I mean, who wouldn’t? A trip to Blue Mountain, paid for by the school board- umm, yes, please! Okay, so I’m not a skier, but couldn’t you just see me cozied up by a fire in a chalet, with a good book and a glass of wine? I so wanted that to happen, but alas, it was not meant to be. I couldn’t get my shifts switched, and then Penelope had a swallow study scheduled, so it just wasn’t going to work out. Although disappointed, I soldiered on, and Mark dropped me off at work and then headed on up to Blue Mountain on Sunday.
As my evening at work progressed, the unit was quiet, and I was offered the opportunity to go home early. Thinking of my in-laws, who were watching the girls, I jumped at the chance, so that they would get to go home at a reasonable hour instead of after midnight. All was well at home when I arrived. I bid farewell to Rick and Pam, got Penelope’s feed going, and settled on the couch to watch a few episodes of Full House on Netflix before heading to bed myself. I hadn’t been sitting for more than ten minutes when I started hearing a strange noise. I paused the TV, and started moving things around to investigate. I noticed some water on the floor, and looked up, and sure enough, there was a small crack in the ceiling and water was dripping down.
At work, I can face things like patients vomiting, worried parents, multiple STAT IV medication orders, babies in respiratory distress, and they all cause less anxiety in me than what I felt when I saw that leaky ceiling. My insides turned to mush as I considered the possible scenarios: a burst pipe, a caved-in roof, the ceiling crashing down to the floor, a flooded living room and ruined flooring and furniture. After an initial panicked phone call to my father-in-law, a Google search, and a less-panicked call to my dad, I deduced that the source of the problem was an ice dam on our roof. There is no plumbing in that area, so it couldn’t be a burst pipe (thank god). And as the temperature outside continued to dip, the dripping stopped. Still, I moved furniture out of the way and laid down some plastic garbage bags to protect the floor and some basins to collect any errant drips.
Thankfully, this wasn’t an emergency-repair-sort-of-situation. I realized I could wait til morning to call someone to fix the problem. The next question was what, if anything, should I tell Mark about this? My initial thought was to not say anything to him while he was away- I wanted him to be able to relax and enjoy his little getaway. So I went to bed, and planned on waiting til he got home on Tuesday to tell him about the problem. I was almost asleep when my phone rang- it was Mark, wanting to see how things were going. He was calling late because he thought I was working late. Sleepy and disoriented, I managed to stick to my plan to not say anything to him. He asked me a couple times if something was wrong- I guess I wasn’t able to keep the stress out of my voice- but I told him everything was fine. After we hung up, though, I felt terrible for keeping this from him. Probably an overreaction on my part, but I tossed and turned all night, and got very little sleep because I felt so guilty about it (yes, I was raised Catholic, why do you ask?). I mean, my intentions in not saying anything were good- I didn’t want him worry unnecessarily- but then I was worried that he would want to know and would be upset with me for keeping it from him. Sigh. I found myself in a classic no-win situation.
Monday morning, exhausted and worn out from lack of sleep and stress, I decided to just tell him about it and reassure him that everything was fine. I think you can guess how THAT phone call went (not well). My initial instinct not to tell him until he got home was right- he wasn’t exactly thrilled to receive the news, and I can’t say I blame him for that. I told him I would take care of it, and I did- I arranged for a company to come on Wednesday to remove the ice dam and repair any damage to the roof, which should fix the immediate problem. And then we can get the ceiling repaired later.
So that was my exciting Sunday night. There is a silver lining, though- I have been so busy lately that it has been hard to find the time to write, but I couldn’t NOT write about all this, so it has got me back to the blog again- and it feels great.