Basketball homecoming

Nothing wears off faster than a vacation.

This past weekend was the basketball weekend (a three to four day man-fest of sports, vulgarity, and red meat), and it lived up to its reputation of being a sort of out of body experience. Go where you want, eat where you want, say what you want – all the things that parenthood denies you. G was our host and supplied the venue – his man-cave has been upgraded to a level that is downright civilized – and we supplied the sloth.

We ended the last night by eating our weight in roasted dead animals – and then watching Jack Nicholson terrorize Boston and DiCaprio on G’s massive TV.

Mobsters, headshots and food-induced comas… ah paradise.

The suspension of reality can only last so long, and the simple act of driving home is enough to bring it  crashing back down on top of you.

I'd been late arriving at G's house, and it was suggested that I use my still-warm car to drive everyone out to brunch and burgers.

Seemed like a good idea until I realized that I still had two kid seats in the back and I hadn't cleaned the car in (oh, I don't know) a decade.

G and B gamely piled into the back and sat on a half-inch deep layer of Cheerios and muffin crumbs.

It being the basketball weekend, this nominated me as official whipping boy anytime we started talking about cars.

Fair enough, but on the way home, I'd already planned a response. The two car  seats had been taken out and were just piled in a heap in the back. As long as they're out, and the weather cooperates, I'd just clean  out the car when I got home.

Hit the ground running, I'm thinking. Half hour out of town, I'm remembering that I still need to change the oil (by the helpful nag-meter telling me EXACTLY how many miles over my oil life I currently am.) and my wipers need replacing.

Three things I can get right on. Clean the car, buy some wipers, change the oil.

At home, I start off on cleaning the car - the boy's dying to help out. His version of "clean the car" entails using his favorite outdoor tool: the garden hose. No harm in letting him try, he can spray water all over it if he wants - so I'm like okay.

The boy's reminding me that the hose doesn't work - and I remember that'd I'd shut off the water line to the outside faucet a month ago. For pretty much the same reason - we had a warm spell and the boy wanted to use the hose.

Funny, I don't remember draining the line afterwards... ah, no biggie.

I duck down into the basement and open the valve to the outside tap-

-and immediately hear the rushing, splattering sound of water jetting out of something.

It takes about a half second to register.

What's that about..? That's louder than it usually is...

I turn the valve off - the sound stops. Unconsciously, I open the valve again - some part of my brain wants to see if it happens again. It does.


Oh sh!t.

I close the valve and start heading upstairs to see if the water is spraying out of the (non-weatherized) faucet that passes for a spigot. On the way there, I hear dripping water in my finished basement room.

Water is dripping from a half dozen places in the drop ceiling - and three of them are directly over a loaded bookshelf.

Double sh!t

The drop ceiling is stapled in place and I can't find a putty knife because (OF COURSE) I left them wherever I last used them last. I grab a carpenter's square and start punching holes in the ceiling. E's freaking out about the books and I ask her to let the water out of the hose upstairs. The valve to the outside line is working, so only the water between the valve and the outside spigot is what we have to worry about. We let out what we can, we might save on some hassle.

E goes up and tells me no water is coming out of the hose. Great.

We bring buckets, towels and eventually manage to save the books with only eight or nine ceiling tiles torn down and perhaps three of them irrevocably damaged.

The boy's mad. He won't get to use the hose.

I'm positively seething. I'd left some water in the pipe and forgot to drain the pipe - so the last cold snap probably did that. Nice.

So, no hose on the front of the house - and I'll need to replace the ceiling in the basement.

I've been home for less than an hour.

Still - this problem will not worsen (I think) so I get back to the orignal plan of cleaning out the car. The boy's majorly gung ho - so this gets done really fast. Less than an hour, I have a clean car.

That leaves two more things to do. Wipers and the oil change.

Skip it, I'll do them tomorrow.