I just had “one of those days.” Except it lasted for three days. It all started on Saturday. First, Jacob relapsed with the nasty upper respiratory infection we’ve been passing back and forth in our family since Christmas. High fever, hacking cough. Then the dishwasher backed up onto the kitchen floor and the laundry room floor. (Their wastewater pipes are connected.) I just love mopping filthy water and washing dishes in a bathroom sink.
And the stove, which had been acting quirky lately, died. Burner by burner. Kind of odd really. We popped the lid. All the electronics were melted. I was very thankful that it didn’t catch fire. Of course, that gratitude morphed into we’ve-only-had-that-hunk-of-junk-stove-for-just-over-two-years irritation by the time I closed the stovetop. Especially since I hadn’t cooked the chili for Fellowship Lunch. And the greasy dishes were going to have to be washed in the shallow bathroom sink. Grr.
Okay, so I’m out a kitchen sink, a washer, a stove, and I have a sick child. Add to this, a sick child whose nose begins pouring blood (I’m beginning to think his nose is hemorrhaging) and the sick child doesn’t want to use toilet paper to absorb the blood because then he has to sit up and he’s got a 101 fever and it makes his head dizzy. So sick child decides to hang his face over a trash can and let the blood just spatter into said can. This would be bad enough. It becomes worse when his sibling sees the blood draining into the can and has a hissy fit.
Now I’m out a kitchen sink, a washer, a stove, and I have a sick child with a high fever and an almost hemorrhaging nose, and a sibling who is grossed-out by blood spatter. (Note to self—do not let sibling become a homicide investigator or a surgeon.)
It’s Monday now. The plumbers have come and worked their magic. Of course, their magic comes with a hefty price—no fairy dust there. But then, in the basement we discover water. Not on the floor. The sump pump actually is still working. No, this water is dripping from the ceiling. It turns out that the seals on the dishwasher have blown out and water is seeping out of the dishwasher, under the flooring and into the basement. Isn’t it just jolly? Now I’m out a kitchen sink, a washer, a stove, I have a sick child with a high fever and an almost hemorrhaging nose, and another child who is grossed-out by blood spatter, and I’m out a dishwasher. And the water seepage destroys the cheap kitchen linoleum. (Okay, the nose thing was over by now and the sink and washer were working, but you get the point.)
By now, I’m beginning to feel hugely sorry for myself. Normally, when things get this ridiculous I begin to laugh. But, hey, I was enjoying a little pity party. I wasn’t about to let a little humor ruin a bout of self-pity. Until Cal said, “God disciplines those he loves.” I got the giggles. Cal knows I won’t say, “I wish he’d love me less.”
I now have a perfectly good hand-me-down dishwasher, a new stove is on order, a throw rug covers the linoleum, Jake’s fever is down, the sibling’s equanimity is restored, and the sink and washing machine both work. Everything’s good...except Matt’s started coughing.