Wanna make the world dance, forget about the….

Have you seen the Tom Hanks film ‘The Money Pit?’  It features a young couple who buy a house in need of renovation and during the process discover more and more things are wrong with it, that break, collapse or don’t work.

the money-pit house

Sometimes, just sometimes I feel a tiny little bit that our house is like that.

This morning, the rain was falling steadily and I was grateful to be warm inside. Thankfully the roof is solid and does not leak. The house I owned before moving, for s short time had a leaking roof. I was living on my own and did not want to go into the loft to see what was going on. In fact, I couldn’t even if I had wanted to as I had no ladder.

My friends Dad did however and came to the rescue and braved the loft for me. A couple of buckets later and the drips were contained and I could sleep without fearing the ceiling would collapse on me in the middle of the night.

A couple of days later I knew I should check the buckets so had to pull myself together big time and climb into the lofty heights. Thankfully, my sister was there to hold the ladder and shout supportive words as I tackled Everest. It felt like my very own bush tucker trial. (a part of ‘I’m a celebrity get me out of here’ for those unfamiliar) It was also an appropriate moment to sing ‘Journey to the heaviside layer’ from Cats, one of favourite musicals.


Fast forward a couple of years later and here we are today in the teaspoon house. Sometimes less affectionately known as the money pit.

With houses, when things don’t appear to be working as they should, you investigate.

When we noticed that the garden path looked rather a wet the other week, we didn’t think much more about it. But then after I finished washing up and emptied the water away and heard glug glug glug in the bath behind me…yes because the bath is in the kitchen…I knew something wasn’t right.

This next bit is mega dull but helps set the scene – The man-hole cover for the houses in our street is in our back garden. It’s deep, really deep. More than a person’s height deep. We also have a mini drain cover thingy where the water from our kitchen sink and bath go before they travel along to the main drain.  Gosh, sorry about that.

Following the glug glug glug moment, we ventured outside and the hubster lifted the cover off the mini drain and we find it full of water and it STINKS – real bad.

Grabbing a shovel, he stuck it down the mini drain (the one that’s not really deep) and eventually after moving the shovel about, the water disappeared.

Donning my finest pair of rubber gloves, I had to put my arm down the mini drain, while not being as deep as the big drain it is still the deeper than the length of my arm so I was a bit brave, and trying not to gag, had to pull out all the shizzle that had blocked the drain.  For a very brief moment, I was able to imagine what it must be like to work in a sewer.

I don’t ever want to have to do that again.

And this morning, with the heavy rain falling, I noticed the floor in the toilet was wet. No, not from an ‘accident’ but with water from the outside getting in from somewhere.

Then I’m reminded when getting a saucepan, of the large crack in the wall that is currently being monitored with special pins to see if the corner of the house is still moving and of the hole in the ceiling when grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl that also regularly fills up with bits from the edges of said hole.

I don’t think those cracks are supposed to be there

But then I move into the front room. That is warm with working radiators, pretty wallpaper, cosy carpet and a snuggly blanket and think that all those things can go do one!

No one said home owning would be easy and if you can’t laugh while pulling out your own hair out of drain, then when can you?

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