Something goes wrong around our house pretty much every day now. In fact, I can’t remember a day in recent memory that wasn’t plagued with a disruptive event of some kind. It’s been a rough three months since moving away from Richmond.
We’ve suffered two immense, life-altering events: the devastating loss of my father-in-law and the trial of Bob’s failed cardiac procedure and subsequent stroke.
Now, the smaller complications seem to arrive daily. We’ve spent weeks dealing with some sort of intestinal indignity that plagued each of the kids leading to so much laundry (SO MUCH LAUNDRY). At the same time, four (4!) of the five members of this house were gifted with a terrible summer cold that left us coughing and hacking in sad family-band-style unison.
Just as we were on the mend and things were looking up, a brief summer storm last night (that the weather casters were pretty casual about) picked up a (relatively secured) patio umbrella (many, many feet away) and shot it through one of the boys’ bedroom windows in super dramatic fashion.
The crash sent us scuttling to the basement for safety and as we were riding out the rest of the storm, we noticed the drip-drip-drip of a leak coming from one of the pipes underneath the hall bathroom. The one that drains the toilet. Because, of course.
So, at this point, with all of the things going wrong, all of the ill health, all of the exploding house parts, I think it’s time we ask ourselves the tough questions.
This house is totally haunted, isn’t it?
I can think of no other explanation.