From Plumbing to Planting

So Saturday was a bit discouraging on the home improvement front. To be honest, I had plans to do some sanding and maybe mud and tape some drywall on Sunday, but when I got out of bed, the back was not up to it. I have a ruptured disc in the lower portion of my spine and I’m not actually supposed to be doing any of this. But what my neurosurgeon doesn’t know can’t hurt him. My back let me know, though, that I had definitely had enough.

That being the case, Sunday I decided to plant flowers and clean up the lawn. Somehow I had in my head that this was easier. After the flood, we put all the stuff we were going to have to throw away on the back patio, including the smelly and mildewing carpets. We’d had to save it for the insurance adjuster to see before we tossed it, so it was sitting there about a week. To get smelly. And muddy. Yum yum!

After cleaning up the remianing detritus, it was time to put together the new patio table I’d bought the day before the big rain. Finally, the place was starting to look somewhat like a back patio and less like a garbage dump. But then I went to hoe out the back flower bed before seeding it.

I think it was less than a week before the rain came that the husband cleaned out the gutters and downspouts. It was a good thing, too, because when 3 inches fell in an hour (9 in 24), the rain overwhelmed the gutters and pounded down onto the flowerbed, packing the dirt like concrete. So that is what I hoe’d through Sunday afternoon. Instead of mudding and taping drywall joints. By the time I was finished, my back was begging for mercy.

I’d bought a no-kink hose that day, too, and the first thing that bugger did was kink on me! Talk about false advertising! It took me nearly an hour to unkink that sucker and get it wound right. By that time, I was covered in mud. So a shower was called for.

While I was gardening, the husband had taken sons #2 and #3 to a local park called Storybook Land. Son #1, however, was on his first date. Now, I should really put that in quotation marks. He’s 11 years old, as was his date, but she asked him to go to Shrek with her and her mother. So I had the house to myself.

Note to self: next time you get the house to yourself, Catie, take a nap.

In the middle of my shower, guess who comes home. I thought I had another half hour, but the little girl’s mother told me (as I stood half in and half out of a very thin robe and dripping on my living room carpet) that they managed to get there in time for a shower a half hour before they thought they would. Thank goodness she was understanding about me being muddy and wet at 3 in the afternoon.

On a happy note in my little home disaster projects, I have new respect for my neighbor. I ran into him at one of the local hardware stores and we got to talking about the drywall project he’s doing at his parents’ house. I asked him a couple questions about texturing it since he has a tad more experience at this than I do, and he answered me. Now this may not seem too outstanding, but it was the first time all week I had asked a question involving a home project when I didn’t get that “But you have two X chromosomes!” attitude.

So what’s up for this week? That would be more of the same, I’m afraid. Oh, and shampooing the upstairs carpet. Tromping through flood waters and then onto that isn’t exactly good for it, either.

And, as promised, a picture. This ran on all the local news stations. It was taken two blocks north of me. North State Flooding

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