When I said a few weeks ago that I wanted to just rip up the carpeting, and install a drain, I was only kidding. Sort of. Little did I know that I would soon have the opportunity to do just that.
Which just goes to show that I should always be careful what I post.
As I was whining about last week, our area of the globe received a record 25 inches of rain when Tropical Storm Fay paid us a visit. What I didn’t tell you was that Fiddledaddy was out of town during the whole ordeal, earning us some money so that I could continue to live in the style to which I have become accustomed.
One morning, I was on the phone with him conveying that if that area of town here in upper Armpit, Florida (an area I’ve had my wandering eye on as a desirous location in which to relocate) were to not experience flood conditions, I would take it as a sign that we should live there.
Thirty minutes later I saw on the new that the desirous location was now lakefront property. With houseboats.
I took it as a sign to appreciate my nice safe and dry neighborhood. Despite the homeowner’s association.
And then a while later I was padding through the master suite of our humble abode. “Why are my feet wet?” The realization struck me after I left the room and began rummaging though the pantry for something cookie in nature.
I’m nothing, if not quick.
In horror, I rushed back into the master suite and began flinging furniture aside to rip back the carpeting. Sure enough, the carpet, padding, and concrete were soaked.
Trish brought over her Shop Vac so that I could begin the drying out process. My 3 year old son, lover of anything vacuum shaped, nearly had a spasm when he saw the Shop Vac.
OH MOMMY! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!
He was mesmerized as he hung over the baby gate, while I labored to rid the carpet of the mold breeding rainwater. And we all know, where there’s mold, there’s certain death.
I did the best job I could do, and turned on all the industrial sized fans I could find. Which really just moved the stink around. And gave me a rather frazzled appearance.
When Fiddledaddy returned home that night, he assessed the situation, and began ripping up carpet and padding. Like a man possessed.
Well. We’ve been talking about replacing the carpeting for about 112 years. But I tell you, my plans for new flooring have changed dramatically in the last week. We are not going to sink a bunch of money into flooring.
Sink would be the operative word.
We had a building inspector come to take a look at our situation. He said that the water probably entered through a loose electrical outlet outside. And the cracks we found in the floor are not indicative of my personal fear that we built our house ON TOP OF A SINK HOLE.
Which is awfully excellent news.
We have a good deal of work ahead of us. And by us, I mean Fiddledaddy. We’re going to replace all of the carpeting and cheap linoleum ourselves. Room by room. And we are probably going to go the nicer “peel and stick” route. I took a picture of what we picked out for the master suite, er, um, concrete slab.
So, if you have any sage advice as to the installation of “peel and stick” flooring, please share it with me. Or Fiddledaddy.
I would imagine it’s much like my old Lee Press On Nails. Which were quite lovely if you stood across the room and squinted.
This may be the reason Fiddledaddy will be barring me from assisting in the floor installation. Well. That and the fact that I would probably glue myself to the floor.
Which would get me out of housework for a few days.
MY MASTER PLAN. (insert maniacal laughter)
(Oh, my friends. It’s good to be back. I feel better already.)