The Flood

When Wes was a young lad, he decided to dig a hole in his front yard to place a basketball hoop in. While digging, he hit a water main, and water gushed up like a geiser. Fast forward 20-some-odd years, and the same thing happened this morning. Only, it happened in Tay's closet as he was drilling a hole to hang a shelf. In all fairness, who would have thought that drilling a small hole would produce a gush of water that literally SOAKED half her bedroom? Luckily, it was Grandpa Bob to the rescue. Since he owns a carpet cleaning and restoration company, he was here in a jiffy to set up dehumidifiers. Right now I'm just sitting here, staring at the mess of crap from Tay's room, strewn all over the upstairs. Books that are wet and ruined, and stuffed animals that got a nice bath. I choose, however, to do nothing. I will sit here, type my blog, and hope that Wes will clean it up. I just don't have it in me today.
And the icing on the cake is that Taylor dropped her first F-bomb! That's right. And she's only 18 months. Wes, being in a panic while running down the stairs to find the shut-off valve, said "f***, f***, f***". And what do you thing little Ms. Tay said 2 seconds later? That's right. I didn't bother to correct her. I figure she'll forget that word anyway, with any luck. It's been a grand morning.