This morning dawned dark, and rainy, but that was okay because I let myself sleep an extra half hour—what else are dreary days for? I dragged myself from my warm covers to the kitchen to boil water for coffee. Yes, we use a French press—it’s the only way to experience caffeine the way God intended. After I put the kettle on, I stepped into a puddle in the middle of the kitchen.
Normally, any unexplained puddle of water is blamed on Jezebel. But even my befuddled brain knew that since she was still in her kennel there was no way that I could blame her. I took off my wet slipper and sniffed. Rainwater. Not good. So not good. That this point a little adrenaline made its way to my brain, and I heard a dripping sound followed by a splash.
Rainwater was leaking from the middle of the window frame, splashing onto the ledge, spilling onto the counter, racing over the edge, pouring to the floor, and streaming to the puddle into the middle of the kitchen floor. Heavy sigh.
Cal got up and said, “How’s the basement?”
Me: Basement’s good. Kitchen’s bad. (See, I really need that first blast of caffeine.)
Cal: The kitchen?
Me: My slipper’s wet.
Cal: Right. (Cal knows that there’s a connection somewhere, and I’ll get around to it.)
Me: The window frame’s leaking, hits the ledge, flows onto the counter, hits the floor, runs to the middle of the kitchen. And I stepped in it.
Cal: Oh, guess we’ll have to do something.
Me: I cleaned it up and put a bowl under the drip.
Cal: I mean so it doesn’t leak anymore.
Cal: I was thinking of sealant and flashing. It might be a bit ugly.
Me: But the kitchen will be dry, and my slipper won’t get wet. (I really hate wet slippers.)
Me: I can live with ugly. Now, if only there were a way to uglify the basement.