(Or Just One More Reason Why Living With the Granparents is Good)

A couple of nights ago we had a slow drain in the bathtub.  No big deal, right?  Probably a hair clog or something.  Will pumped the drain a couple of times with a plunger but nothing seemed to happen so we decided to put the kids to bed and deal with it later.  “Later” came in 20 minutes as we were marching down the hall chanting our bedtime rhyme… “To bed, to bed, to bed we….whoa!”  Where did this puddle come from?!  Brother crying from the fall on slick tile.  Sister running to get towels and asking a gazillion questions.  Me holding Brother wondering, “Can I put him to sleep or do I have to wait for signs of a concussion?”  and Will mumbling over and over, “I shouldn’t have used the plunger.”  All in all it was great fun.  The water, as it turns out, was is coming from the wall.  See that change in tense there?  That’s important because even though we had a plumber out and he confidently called his septic guy and even though the septic guy cleaned the tank and confidently declared the problem solved, there is still a leak.  The second plumber came last night  (late) and has promised to return this morning but we won’t be here to see him work his magic - hence the subtitle of this post.  We are going to dig some graves and visit the relatives hopefully we will return to a peaceful home where all plumbing troubles are sucked into the vortex of a properly draining tub… hopefully.