First Cry

I cried for the first time this morning. In the shower. With warm water soothing my neck and aching shoulders. While thoughts of "what if" of an unpleasant kind, and "it's going to be okay" of the reassuring kind, flowed through my mind.

For the first time in 12 years, through weepy wet eyes, I realized the little inset tiles in the guest shower did not contain a deep green color, but charcoal gray. How did I not see that years ago!?! Or even two months ago when I went through the entire house with a magnifying glass?

Oh, life is strange, surprising, and keeps rolling on despite tile colors and the reason for abandoning my own shower to use a different one. It's a short story, really, that sent me across the house, and goes like this:

Once upon a time--actually, this morning--I awoke to low gray clouds, a definite switch from the sunshine I expected. I should have recognized the omen, but no, I proceeded with life as usual. I stepped into the shower and turned on the water full blast to get it heated up. Instead of a gentle flow coming from the end of the hose and shower head near my bare toes, a thousand angry geysers of icy water sprayed from every possible angle above my head. I was shocked into awareness of the panic-inducing situation, and the long-standing awareness that me and leaking water have never gotten along!

Yelp! Hyperventilate! Scurry out! Mop and fume...

Relax, I advised myself once the water was off and while cleaning up. 

Calmed down by many degrees (the house hadn't fallen into a dark swamp, making calm a possibility), I texted my husband and my realtor. My husband, on the road today, offered no hope of help because I couldn't reach him, but my urgent message caught my realtor's attention. (Of course, it did--he's got the listing.) He called the home inspector who had examined every inch of my home yesterday and left a little business card on my kitchen countertop. The inspector (I picture him tiny, like a mouse, at this point in the story) admitted  he'd attached a pressure gauge and probably hadn't replaced the shower connection correctly when finished. Yes, my exact conclusion after the massive leak was fixed and I knew no broken pipes were spewing destructive waterfalls behind tile and sheetrock and flooding my basement and ruining my home. The incident left me wondering how many other things the inspector messed up. I've gone through my house since then and searched deeper, feeling like Sherlock Holmes as I looked for something out of place, odd or suspect. Nothing strange has turned up yet.

The end. But not really.

We listed out home less than two weeks ago and received an offer almost immediately. Today I cringed when heavy pipe wrenches crossed my tile floors, and cried when my bathroom resembled Yellowstone. Lately my whole focus has been on filling out forms, sharing banking details, signing papers and scheduling things like inspections, appraisals and walk-throughs. And I'm still cleaning like crazy. I feel like a goalie holding a rag and mop while defending every wall, cabinet, floor, etc. I'm ready to spring into action and block everything even remotely destructive. Nothing is getting past my body! 

Hey, put that marker down! Take your shoes off! Don't slam that door!

Ahhhh, the life of a someone who is selling their home. Tomorrow I'll laugh over today. Already I'm starting to chuckle. I wish I had a picture. If you don't know it yet, let me clue you in:

Crisis + Time = Humor

(Sometimes it takes a LOT of time, but I don't have time to waste right now, so I've got to get on with getting on so I can start packing.)