Plot Monkeys

Night before last, my daughter and I were a little off schedule. That tends to happen when Daddy isn’t home because while he is very, um, organized…we are not. So at 8:30pm, she was finishing up her homework while I was taking a shower.

Then I heard it: glub, glub, glub.

I look down at the drain. Nothing. I hear it again: glub, glub, glub. It’s coming from the other side of the shower door. The toilet. It’s…burbling. And not like a brook either. Why I knew this was a bad thing is beyond me, but I did. I got out of the shower quickly.

I dried and dressed and then decided to check out the now glub-less toilet. It won’t flush. Another bad sign. I pull out the plunger. Nuthin. So I do what any rational 42-year old woman does when she has a plumbing problem at 9pm. I called my Dad.

Now, I guess I could have called my husband, but love him as I do, his knowledge of plumbing is about equal to mine. But my dad knows everything. Most dads do, don’t they? He ran me through a few tests then declared, “You need to call the plumber.”

Which I did. We are now way past my daughter’s bedtime, but the toilet noises have distracted her and she’s still not done with her spelling homework. I talk to the plumber, who says he thinks there’s a clog in the main line (which I know enough about plumbing to know ain’t cheap) and he can come around midnight. Maybe. But he’ll waive his service call if I let him come in the morning.

Well, here’s a man who knows how to negotiate.

But there’s no way that two females can live in a house without working plumbing, so instead of tucking my daughter into bed like a good mother, we do a fast evacuation.

Pillows and blankets, check. (Yes, my parents have pillows and blankets, but they are not OUR pillows and blankets.) Clothes for tomorrow, check. Backpack, lunchbox, lunch, school things, check. Julie’s laptop (with files from PC quickly downloaded), check. Dog, check. House locked up, check. Forty-five minutes later, we’re at my mother and father’s house…and they live ten minutes away. Packing quickly takes time!

My father asked if we were staying for a week when he saw us marching toward the front door. My father is a funny man.

I got my daughter into her pajamas and she managed to finish her homework and get into bed by 10 o’clock. The dog, however, was another matter. While she loves visiting my parents house and squeals like a pig for the last two blocks because she figures out where we’re going, she doesn’t like to sleep over. I think it’s the wood floors throughout the house. You can hear EVERYTHING, so the dog hears twice as much. Instead of sleeping at the foot of the guestroom bed, she stands guard. It’s got to be exhausting for a little dog.

Because my parents weren’t expecting company, my daughter and I ended up sharing the same guestroom with the king size bed. I forget what a wiggle worm that child is until I share a bed with her…and the dog.

Of course, I let her sleep in. Luckily, my parents live closer to her school than I do, so we were only 15 minutes late. I called the plumber to verify my appointment time and realized I had two hours to kill. So I went back to my parent’s house (they were both at work) and I remembered why I didn’t move out until I was married.

This is the view from their patio:

These were taken by my cell phone, so the quality isn’t great, but if you click on the pic, you’ll get a larger view. I don’t know if I can explain how peaceful this is first thing in the morning when there are no boats on the lake, when the ducks are just waking up, when the yard guys next door haven’t show up yet. I’d like to say I got a lot of writing done…but reality? I spent a nice hour just communing with me.

Until the plumber called. He was on his way to my house, so I had to book out of paradise and head for home. Not that I don’t love my house, but until the hot Florida mornings start up (we’re still having spring for a few more days) I think I just found my new morning writing spot. It is, of course, close to my daughter’s school after drop off. I have a key. And the view is free…

So, tell me about your “peaceful place.” Do you have one readily available?

Oh…the clog in the line? Red-hair (gulp) and a FROG. Leslie, what are you doing sending your mojo on my house???