It’s a brand new record from 1990…

Ahem. Yet I see nobody marching hand in hand – just a steady stream of water, coming in through a very aptly named weep hole in my basement wall. I’ll admit to knowing absolutely nothing about home maintenance or waterproofing, but I’d have thought that a hole in the wall like that would be served well by being accompanied by an easy outlet for water to get to the sump pump or the floor drain, which ours is not. Hilarity has, thus, ensued.

Right now, our solution, after futilely attempting to staunch the flow, is to build a makeshift trough toward the floor drain. This was actually Eric’s dad’s idea, after we came up blank. (I actually thought of trying to use the rubber tubing from the old aquarium, but it was too narrow and we don’t have any kind of putty.) Eric was freaking out with steadily increasing volume, and he’s now gone out to a work-related holiday party, for which I couldn’t get a sitter so we both could attend. Presumably, he’ll be trying to console himself with yummy goodies and good company; all I’ve got is you guys and a host of liquors – well, I’d have that host if I didn’t have to remember to go downstairs and check the influx periodically. And, of course, if I wasn’t the sole Parent On Deck. I told Eric not to stay too late, if it could be helped.

He’s in the “MUST SELL HOUSE NOW WHILE STILL MOSTLY SANE” state that we hit every so often. I tried to calm him, suggesting that we revisit that in the spring, but now he’s all about getting an inspector out to identify what must be fixed before selling. I’d say that waterproofing probably will fall high on the list. Then again, I’d have guessed that holes in the wall were prone to be a Not Good idea, so perhaps it should be left to the professionals and out of the hands of silly little girls like me.

Give me snow, honestly.