I arrived home last night a little after 8, just as the sky was beginning to darken. Blair met me at the front door. He was dressed in dark jeans, a long-sleeved dark shirt, and he had a black wool knit cap pulled low on his forehead. He was wearing heavy work gloves and carrying a wrench and a flashlight.
"I forgot it was burglary night," I said. "Just give me a minute to change."
"Water line to the ice-maker burst," said Blair. "I'm going under the house to see if I can fix it."
"Going under the house" has scary inferences at our home. We have a crawlspace, but large portions of it require one to wriggle through on your belly and some areas are flat out inaccessible. There's also an abandoned well somewhere under there. Not to mention creepy crawly things.
"Good luck," I said and walked inside. I went to the kitchen and started making my dinner when I heard a distant voice.
I cocked my head, not sure what I had heard.
"God?" I asked.
Oh. Not God. Blair, underneath the kitchen floor, yelling up at me. Something about checking the line to see if it was still spurting water. Hard to do, as Blair had wrapped the line in about a pound of black electrical and duct tape. I started prying off layers of sticky, wet tape.
"Still leaking!" I yelled at the floor.
"Mwemphww?" I heard back.
"What?" I yelled.
"Can't hear you," I screamed at the floorboards.
"HOW ABOUT NOW?" Blair yelled back.
Really, the evening just went downhill from there. Blair crawled out from under the house, covered in mud, and went to Lowe's. He found... something... (I'm a little fuzzy on the details) that stopped the water line from leaking BUT he couldn't stop the leak under the house. We ended up turning the water off and now I'm waiting for the plumber to arrive.
Never a dull moment at the Harris.' Plus, the water leak totally interrupted burglary night. Oh well. Maybe next week.