Pozdrav! (A little Czech for ya there.)
You know what's really funny? I just checked the poll, and there are two votes for "Awkwardness." That means people think awkwardness is worse than sickness, worse than grief. Likewise, mates. Well, actually, I have not quite decided which is worse. You know what I think? I think this is a grand time to bring up the Awkward Incident of the Day! You know when a whole bunch of students are all jamming themselves into one classroom's doorway? And the doors are not quite wide enough for two students to walk through comfortably? Yeah. But then you and another person are about to walk through at the same time. So you both stand there, one on either side, and then you start to go both at the same time. So then you jerk back to let the other person through, but you look up to see they've done the same thing? At the same time? So you both are rocking back and forth, starting towards the door and then leaning away, before one of you can slide through and put an end to the awkward door-dance.
Anyway, you're probably squinching your little old eyebrows at the title. "SO IS THERE CRAP ALL OVER THE PLACE?" you ask in an awed whisper-shout. No. There is not. The toilet was full of nice clean water, in fact so clean that my dog prefers it over his dish of water that we fill from the nice clean sink. Who knew water could make something so gross? We'll get to that "gross" part later though. This is one heck of a yarn to spin. (I've gotta practice my Arizona yarble, y'all!)
Anyway, it happened kind of a while ago. I came home one day, and toilet water was soaking the carpet in the upstairs hallway. Uhm. That was unpleasant. We rented this odd vacuum-type contraption that sucked all the water back out, though, and we left it at that for a day or two. Then my dad started making calls to to our insurance company. He figured it's be good for them to "take a look" at the invisible ""damage."" Extra quotes around the word "damage" because whatever "damage" existed wasn't very apparent. The insurance guy was due to arrive at five o'clock last night. He finally showed up at seven thirty. We weren't so much glad to see him as much as we were plain old relieved. Look at the carpet, and then go on ahead and leave, please, buddy. But the insurance companies make their dinero off of damage, problems, trouble, and lots of it. The screwier the problem they have to deal with, the higher they can set their rates. Anyway, the dude whips out a bunch of tools and starts tearing up the carpet, peeling it away with long, painful rrrriiiiippps. We watch in horror as he shreds up the floor and invites us to feel the padding underneath. It's wet. Then he lacerates that too, and shows us the mold that has grown underneath. Eww.
This morning, we moved all the furniture out of my room. While I was at school, they tore away the rest of the carpet. My room is bare, with nothing but walls and floorboards. They put big, noisy machines in the house: one in my room, one in my sister's and one in the hall. They're sucking away all the ickies and forcing dry air into the wood to scare off the mold. Unfortunately, they also scare my dog, my cat, and me. When you open the door, it whips open for you, and if you step inside you get sucked towards the machine. I'm not even kidding, man. The things are freaky. And loud. It's like somebody is screaming at you, constantly. Big fat yellow pipes snake all across the floor, curling through the hallway and rooms like the exceptionally large snake that I plan to ride. (See post below!)
Anyway. All my stuff is in the guest bedroom, piled up in piley piles. I live in there now. We have a little couch in there, so I sleep on that. It's a little depressing, you know?
Anyway, nashledanou for now!