The latest disaster to befall us took place yesterday afternoon. Our utility closet leaked fiercely, gushing water all over the laundry room floor, and pouring down into the entryway below. Poor Donnie had to single-handedly move our washing machine, dryer, and full-sized, upright freezer to reach the source of the leak and assess the damage.
And what he found wasn't pretty.
The closet must have been leaking lightly for months, because we actually had mushrooms growing behind the washing machine. The carpet was ruined, and when Donnie pulled part of it up, he discovered that the wooden floor beneath was also destroyed. So now my husband, who already works far harder than any one human being should, gets to spend his holiday weekend tearing up carpet, laying a new floor, and possibly even replacing parts of the laundry room wall.
This is just the latest in a string of emergency household repairs we've had to undertake, and, frankly, I'm sick of it. In fact, I'm fairly certain our next residence will be a rental. Pride of ownership can't compete with complete and total freedom from costly DIY home improvement projects.
For now, we're stuck as property owners. But the next time we move, I want at least a year or two without any responsibility for making repairs to my residence. Just call me Rosie the Renter. Or something. Whatever floats your boat.
Just don't ask me to set foot in a Home Depot, and I'll be a happy woman.