Death by Disposal

by Patti

Last night, as the thunder roared and the lighting did its little flashdance outside, M washed the dishes as we talked about our respective days. I was sitting at the kitchen counter across from him as he scrubbed, my head barely propped up by my hands. This getting up at 5:30 AM crap is literally for the birds, not humans who get caught up in back episodes of Celebrity Apprentice. Yes, I realize I could go to bed earlier, but when your kid goes to bed at 9 PM, and your husband gets home just before 10 PM, you tend to live your life on the Night Owl side. Plus: Celebrity Apprentice is addicting. That Donald is such an instigator.

So, as M scrubbed and I swayed to the lullaby in my head, and the thunder clapped and the lightning danced, and the dog snored in his bed, and the waterfall waterfalled... Wait. WHAT? The waterfall? M suddenly let out a string of Ricky Ricardoisms and jumped back, flinging the sponge in his hand across the room. "Chuta, que paso? Que es esto?" That's when I saw a hearty stream of water snaking its way across the kitchen floor, and then, within seconds, that stream became a river and then a lake and then an ocean. Our entire kitchen was covered in water. And that water was seeping under the breakfast bar out onto the dining / great room area. It was under the refrigerator, the oven, and making its way into the formal dining room.

As I sat there dumbly, watching the water work its devious magic, M sprang into action, lifting our 900-lb utility rug off the kitchen like the Incredible Hulk lifting a car off a kid. He grabbed all of the dish towels out from under the cabinet and plastered them all over the floor, trying to stop the water. "Towels!" he yelled, and I finally woke from my stupor and ran for the basement to get extra towels. As I ran past S's room, she popped her head up from the pillow. "What's going on?" I responded with some gibberish about water and broken things, and trampled down the stairs. Once in the basement, I noticed that the water was dripping down from upstairs onto the laundry room floor. I grabbed one of the 396 foil roasting pans I keep stored down there just in case and stuck it under the leak, grabbed a handful of towels,and sprinted back up the stairs. "What's going ON?" S demanded again as I raced past her door.

In the kitchen, every countertop was covered with what had been under the sink. Oh, there's the oven spray. Scanning all of the items, I was amazed that all of that had fit under the sink. I was also amazed at how quickly M managed to dismantle our entire kitchen. "It was the garbage disposal", he told me. "It broke."
"There's water in the basement."
"Of course there is. It'll dry. Help me take this rug out."
We lifted the 900-lb rug and stood there, both realizing it was pouring outside, thus reducing the chances of the rug drying outside by a few hundred percent. And then we continued to stand there, also realizing ther was no place for it to dry inside, either. So, we rearranged our covered back deck and laid the rug across the table. Klassy. All we needed was an old couch and a tire to complete the look.

Back inside, M plugged in an industrial fan that blew the bajeezus out of the air around us, and then  he instructed me that we could not use the kitchen sink until Sunday, when he would finally have time to fix it.
"Are you insane?"
So, to round out the klass, he stuck a metal bucket under the sink and called it fixed. 'Til Sunday.

Then, we went to bed and fell asleep, the fan screaming, the rain falling, the water dripping.