Plumbed

Last night I poured some caustic drain cleaner into our bathtub and bathroom sink. Both were draining slowly and, since I am now on maternity leave, I need to get this place in order before baby's imminent arrival.  That means cleaning the bathroom super well (Brad and I both have the ability to ignore a gross bathtub for longer than I care to admit). 

This morning when I woke up, I noticed that Brad's shower water was in the tub and it wasn't draining -- at all.  I came downstairs and called a plumber.  After spelling my last name SIX TIMES for the woman who answered the phone, I procured an appointment for Wednesday morning. I figured I would just, I don't know, shower quickly up to my ankles in cold dirty water? 

After that I started thinking about how I really didn't want to shower in the filth, so I decided to try our plunger in the bathtub. I figured the worst that could happen would be that it didn't work, crap would start coming back out of the drain into the tub, and I would call my friend Misty to see if I could shower at her place today. I had the plumber scheduled, so no big deal. I'm sure they've seen worse.  Lo and behold, it worked like a charm.  I took a shower and our drain drained like a normal drain.  I was immensely proud of myself.

So I came back downstairs and cancelled the plumber. Then I called Brad at work:

B: Hello??
K: I am a plumbing genius! *Goes on to describe in great detail how I awesomely saved the day and like $200.00 in plumber fees.*
B: Could you maybe text me or something that you are not in labor before you call?  Like, say, "I'm not having the baby, but I'm going to call you."

I guess I gave him a bit of a scare, especially since the last thing he said to me this morning on his way out the door was "call me if you go into labor!"





 

What I Did With My August

Things have been mighty quiet around this little blog lately. I have been busy doing things like:

Celebrating my 2nd wedding anniversary (and 13th year of togetherness) with my devastatingly handsome husband.

Taking my dog on romantic six mile walks in the woods with her dog boyfriend, Samson, and Samson's owner, Beth.

House hunting, applying for a mortgage, finding and ultimately PURCHASING A 1940's BUNGALOW WITH A WHITE PICKET FENCE!!

Yes, my dream of owning a house has come to fruition. We bought a lovely place in one of the only two flat neighborhoods in Charleston. It is full of character, needs a little TLC, but it is way nicer than anyplace we've lived before, and it is OURS. We are stoked.

Before and after photos of some of our renos will surely follow.

Like a Queen

I have been sleeping on the same bed that I bought when I moved out of my parents' house at the age of 19. It sags in the middle and Brad and I often wake up with backaches. Not to mention the fact that Brad's feet hung off the end of it and I was constantly kneeing him in the side in my sleep. Eleven years we'd been sharing this bed, and it had to stop.

So last week, we went on a wild, flu-ridden journey of the city looking for a new bed. We found one at last, and it arrived yesterday. After moving our old bed into the guest room (for my parents to sleep on this weekend -- sorry guys), we hauled that sucker upstairs, set it up, and were all, "Huh. This Queen-sized bed, contrary to what I believed, is significantly larger than a double." For some reason, I thought our full-sized sheets would fit, but I was mistaken.

So last night at 9.00, you could find me at Target, buying sheets and a new bedskirt. But holy moley. I slept like a cherub last night. I am so in love with our new mattress that, if I weren't already married, I would make it my husband.