It's almost 11pm and low and behold, there's a "drip, drip, drip" coming from the bathroom. Assuming it's the cat playing in the toilet water, I roll my eyes and sigh. As I walk into the bathroom I notice that the cat was sitting right next to me on the sofa. "Was" as in...until I got up. Sorry Butterbutt, apparently my pumpkin (and brain) turns mush when the clock strikes 10.
Pumpkin, as in...the 4 bedroom we're living in. A saving grace..yes, despite the lack of treble reverberating the walls from the foursome next door. College. Gotta love it...ten plus years ago that is.
The "drip, drip, drip" isn't the sink faucet, nor the tub faucet. And then it hits me. Literally. I'm standing in a pool of murky water as I'm bombarded by water pellets falling from...the ceiling. I grab a dishpan, but today's modern marvel (from Tarje') has rounded corners and doesn't quite reach the drips...dropping in the corner.
As I stand there with a piece of popcorn ceiling on my nose, two tunes spring into my noggin:
- There's a hole in my Bucket...dear Liza...dear Liza. (everybody in unison now...)
And...
- The roof...the roof...
I don't know why the last one came up. Maybe it's because I know there's so much mold in that ceiling that I assume they'll have to set it on fire to kill it all. When I awake in a bubble with air tanks (like a scene from ET) I'll scream, "I told you so". I'll make sure I post a picture though. It'll be a laugh for all at least. Much obliged.
Mold. It's not a friend. Just sayin'... No really..I'm not a drip, but there IS a drip somewhere in the room. Hey, anyone got a square to spare?
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