Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

it's not supposed to rain in the basement

Just to be perfectly clear…it is not supposed to rain in the basement.

I had to call my husband at work yesterday. I didn’t want to call my husband, and sometimes I do want to, but this time I had to call him. He didn’t answer his phone, it rolled straight to voice mail, so, of course, I did what every resourceful wife does…I sent him a 911 text message. One simple word, “Emergency!” and before I knew it, the phone was ringing in my hand.

“What?” His voice was stained with irritation.  You would think I cry wolf all the time or something. Which, I don’t, of course. That would be stupid, and I’m anything but stupid. Ok, sometimes I over react but that’s not the same thing as being stupid. This time I was not over reacting.

“Um…is it supposed to be raining in the basement?” I asked, ever so innocently.

Ok, maybe it was sarcastically, but either way, my point was made.

Depths of Hell coming up the tubBefore I even got to the whole, depths of Hell coming up the tub drain part of the story, my husband was on his way home from work in the middle of the day, and I was still left with a mysteriously filled bathtub (rusty, dirty water loudly gurgling up uninvited from the drain) and it was still raining in the basement.

The worst part of it was the fact that I had to go into the basement (alone) to investigate. This is how I discovered it was raining down there. And it was apparently raining the same dirty, orange colored water that was coming up the drain in the tub.

The first thing I asked myself was, “Wasn’t this a major plot point in a horror movie? One I purposely avoided out of a deep-seated fear?” Yes, I believe it was.

My bathtub is haunted.

Pipes in the basement ceilingMy bathtub isn’t haunted. Or so says my husband. And the plumber. And the scary clog the plumber managed to dislodge from the ancient, 1920’s era cast iron pipes running through the bowels of my creepy basement.

I am beginning to wonder if it’s just too much to ask to be able to take a shower without the depths of Hell coming up to greet me. Is it any wonder I’m developing a bathroom phobia? Don’t these people understand how OCD works? Didn’t they see The Aviator?

Apparently not.

Well, I suppose I’ll take a shower tomorrow. After I thoroughly disinfect the entire bathroom, just to be safe. And it might not be a bad idea to do my disinfecting with a bottle of Holy water and a bit of dialogue from the Exorcist. “The power of Christ compels you.”

That and some bleach ought to do the trick!

Until the next time…I’ll be sleeping with an umbrella!

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