mardi 12 mai 2009


The leak has sprung


This morning so didn't go as planned.

Was there a wet spot before? Yes.

Was there black mold? Yes.

Did I tear that out, spray vinegar and plaster over the area? Yes.

Did I know what an idiot I am? Sadly, yes.

Was I guilty of wishful thinking? Alas, yes.

It gets me nearly every time. But, why now? Why? Why did it suddenly have to fail right as I was about to paint? Just when I was about to realize a major improvement of these two spaces for the greater enjoyment of guests and myself, having, now, a place (finally!) to banish the step kids to watch their TV shows (Disney Channel. Enough said.) and play Wii with their friends?

My own son already banishes himself. He's at the age where his room or the space in front of the computer are the only places he really wants to be. Unless he wants to talk to me.

Those of you who are essentially positive will laugh and say, "But, don't you see? You were fortunate! You could have painted, had the sea grass carpeting installed, moved all the furniture back in and then had this happen! You were lucky!"

To you, I say, "What? You don't think I am not still going to do all of that anyway?" I said this was a New York City clean-up job.

My first thought was to move the ladder outside and see if there was anything I could do. Not much. My second was to move the ladder back inside and retrieve my camera from on top of the bathroom ceiling and take a picture of my unintentional green roof. Meaning no one ever intended it to be this way. It's a perfect failure, like so much here.

Like everything.

I called the roofer.

I had hoped to be able to "get to it in time". Not a lot of time even. The time to get through May, make some drawings and call the roofer here in Mousseaux to see if he was interested in doing a toit végétalisé. They are quite beautiful, ecologically friendly and efficient, and low cost. Now, I have an accidental toit végétalisé and a waterfall. I am hoping they can at least put a tarp over the room as a stop-gap measure to prevent further inundation until they have time to get to us and do my roof, or get someone else if he isn't into plants for roofing.

Yesterday, the carpet layer came to do the estimate to install the sea grass. He left having given me all his contact information so that he could come and install it before next Tuesday, when a half-sister I haven't seen in nearly 33 years -- it's a long story, the American family; although, according to the carpet installer, his wife is looking for her older half English, half French half-siblings, who live in England, hence -- beyond my being charming (I am) -- his desire to help me out in a pinch --, is arriving to see me again. She suffers from asthma. I am suddenly not so sure our house will suit her, and I am starting to panic.

It just doesn't stop. I feel like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the damn.

Or, like Hunca Munca in charge of an entire forest of untidy little homes.

Off to see the dermatologist. That should cheer me up. Maybe I'll get to have the additional 4 mm of skin and flesh removed from my toe this morning to really round out the day before another electrician and the roofer come this evening.

And the rain falls.
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