I woke up in the wee hours of the night with the answering machine blinking. The neon blue lighting the bedroom-bright-dark-bright-dark. I tried to stop it, finally unplugging the damn thing. Why did it go wonky in the first place? My thoughts ranged from the cats to someone walking through the house. The dogs didn't bark, so I chalked it up to Little Jack, my widdle (no, that is not a typo) 15-pound fluffy kitten. He's got the cutest little mew and the softest, fuzzy paws-like a stuffed animal with a sing-song purr. He's been known to destroy things.
This morning, I followed the dogs downstairs, looking for the rubble left by my mischievious feline. Nothing. Nada. All seemed well. Jack chirped from his usual perch on the dog food bins,batting at the dogs as they bounded by him. His halo gleamed in the morning light. I patted him as I walked by, and started toward the mud room door, chasing the dogs out into the yard. They'd be back in a nano-second demanding breakfast (which they should know they don't get until after I start my coffee brewing and get dressed-I guess hope springs eternal).
Wait. Why is my foot wet? Did one of the dogs not make it to the door? I looked up to find a tell-tale bulge where the wall meets the ceiling. Uh oh. Then I noticed the dripline down the wall, right to the phone jack and the non-portable phone. Hmm. I remembered the blue strobe that disturbed my previous night's slumber. Slowly, I walked across the kitchen and picked up the portable phone. Scratchy silence met my ear, no ocean sounds, no dial tone, static.
Hmmm...
I turned back to the regular phone, hanging in it's own waterfall, then looked back at the useless receiver in my hand. I yelled at the dogs to stop barking and scratching at the door. I was standing in the doorway that separated the kitchen and mudroom. Drip. Onto my head and down my neck. Oh. OK. I disconnected the wall phone from the jack. I hit the talk button on the portable. Yay! Dial tone. One problem solved and I hadn't even started brewing the coffee!
I made my coffee, put a towel beneath the biggest drips, and considered how best to break the news to Mr. W.
"Hey, I figured out why the phone flipped out..."
He took it well. Considering.
There is still a leak, an ice dam on the roof outside, some wall repair and repainting in our future, but I solved the phone dilemma! It's the little things that make me feel special.
I passed a house in Connecticut yesterday that had such huge, thick, numerous icicles hanging off the front (and no lights on) that I thought, hmm... that looks like flooding that froze. I've never seen anything like it. I hope your house doesn't look like that!
ReplyDeleteSounds like the glass is half full, this is a good thing. BTW, though the house with the icicles must be heart breaking for the homeowners, it must look really cool.
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