Tales from the Crypt, er Hobbit Hole

This morning didn't go as planned. Mornings rarely do in our household, but this one was beyond anything I could have (or would have) scripted on my own.

Mid-way through my morning yoga routine (stop laughing - I realize the mental images conjured up of a very pregnant woman doing yoga in her living room is a little much this early in the day), somewhere between moving from Downward Facing Dog (my current favorite position, in hopes it gets Baby Girl to move out of breech position) into Warrior One, I noticed a waterfall coming out of the kitchen light switch.

Not kidding.

I nearly topple over (you try balancing with a basketball under your shirt!), as I try to decide if I turn off the yoga DVD, try and mop up the water, which is rapidly spreading into the kitchen and entry way, or yell for Himself first. I end up yelling for Himself to bring my cell phone and some towels in while I lunge for the DVD player to stop the "inhale, now bring your arms slowly..." incantations.

Except there is a problem. The boxes in which the "not-as-nice" towels were used as packing material haven't been unpacked yet. The water continued to flow, unimpeded, out of the light switch, down the wall and into various nooks and crannies as Himself frantically tried to get ready for work and I tried to reach the landlord via his cell, while diving into various large boxes looking for towels. (There are days when I loathe the fact that Himself does not have a flexible schedule).

I reach the landlord, who, I find out, is in California on business. It is 7 a.m. in The Frontier, making it 6 a.m. in California. I was the very first person the landlord got to speak to this morning, since I woke him up. He told me where the master water shut-off was. I groaned. Shutting off the water meant that I wouldn't get a shower. I have to have my insides examined today by the doctor, to make sure I'm not going into labor anytime in the next seven days - the thought of having to do that sans soap and water made my stomach lurch. Obediently, I shut off the master water valve. (On a side note - the upstairs neighbors should really be nice to us - I could cause ALL KINDS of issues, since I now realize I have total control over their water supply).

I ran upstairs in my ghastly outfit (remember I was working out in my living room, not dressed to make social calls) to let the neighbors know that the entire contents of their washing machine were now on my kitchen floor and asked them to please turn it off. Then I ran back downstairs. The Landlord called again and instructed me to cut power to the kitchen, since the water had obviously come down the electrical system and out the switch. Then I had to run back upstairs to tell the neighbors to call the landlord, since someone was on the phone and he couldn't get through.

Meanwhile, Himself finishes getting himself ready (minus water at this point), has a stroke of genius and remembers where the not-as-nice towels are and yells over his shoulder as he leaves, "Have a good day!" I had half a mind to call the university and tell them that "I'm sorry, I need Himself at the moment more than they do." (After all, I am 36 weeks pregnant - anything can happen), but his job is critical in our master plan to actually get ahead in this life, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

I mop up the floor the best I can, leaving the puddle under the refrigerator for later, as there is no way I can move it on my own. I go into the bathroom and discover that the water came out of that light switch as well, soaking a box of kleenex. At this point, I contemplate running away. I find some rags (we're out of not-as-nice towels and I steadfastly refuse to use the good ones) to mop up the bathroom mess. Then I sneak back to the water valve, turn it on and dash for the shower. Leak or no leak there is no way I'm going to see the doctor without showering. I get out, wrap a towel around me and dash back to turn the water back off.

Then the upstairs neighbor knocks. Now I'm truly in no position to be opening the door - it's no longer just a matter of embarrassing clothing choices. I answer him through the door. He explains that they've found the source - the water source to the washing machine - and cut it off, so I can turn the water on.

I count my blessings that The Factory is flexible, since it is now impossible for me to make it to work on time. Then I remember the landlord said he is coming back to town today and will be by mid-day to investigate the issue with a plumber. I realize the house looks like a bomb went off. I scramble to straighten the living room, shut off all views of Baby Girl's room and the den due to the looming messes in there and scrub Son's Coke stains out of the carpet. Stains I've been meaning to get to for a week.

I sigh, get ready for work, grab my lunch and the trash Himself forgot to take out and bolt far, far away.

I will return home this evening to smelly towels on the floor, a kitchen, hallway and bathroom in dire need of a full-scale clean and mop job and the contents of several boxes strewn across two rooms, the victims of The Great Towel Hunt.

It's going to be a wonderful day. I can already tell.