For quite a while Carole has had a habit of leaving the hot tap running in the kitchen when she leaves for work. Not full on, or anything like that, just steadily trickling away quite slowly.
For quite a while I have been joking that, one day, she will flood the kitchen.
Today those two things came together in a glorious synergy.
I came downstairs this morning, full of the joys of mid-to-late spring. I had thrown back the curtains, when I eventually rolled out of bed after a steady stream of time-stealing YouTube videos, and prepared for another glorious drying day by stripping the spare bed to be cleaned.
I got downstairs and heard, as I often do, the distinctive sound of the tap running.
I stepped into the kitchen and moved towards the sink to turn the tap off.
This time something was different.
I was paddling my way there.
If you want to look at this incident in a different light, the way the water pooled is testament to how incredibly uneven our kitchen floor is. And luckily for us, it only really creates a pool of water in front of the washing machine and into the carpet that occupies the other half of the kitchen (it’s lino around the cupboards, cooker and sink etc and carpet in the other half so it could be a kitchen-diner if you had a small table and a small family).
And, again, luckily that’s where the extension lead that the washing machine is plugged into sits as well.
So that could have been all sorts of electrocuted fun.
But luckily, it wasn’t. I say luckily, of course, because I had already set off into the watery floor before I realised what was going on. And that could have been an absolute bummer if I’d gotten up only to be electrocuted in the kitchen.
It’s the time I nearly blew up my parents house by accidentally leaving the gas fire on a little bit all over again…
And while I was looking forward to good drying day for any washing, one thing that has not dried well is the kitchen. It has an air of damp. Or, in the carpet’s case, an air of soggy. It’s not bouncing back from this well, at the moment. I mean, the lino is the cleanest it’s ever been and any spilled or abandoned cat biscuits did go some way towards absorbing some of the water. And let us never, ever talk of all the fluff and whatever else that was washed out from under the washing machine…
And, it goes without saying, Carole is now banned from using the sink in the morning. I might have to start going to bed with the plug, so this cannot happen again.
Likewise, I clearly can’t lie in bed anymore in a morning. I’ll have to get up and if I yearn for any further horizontal relaxation, do it on the couch down here, once I’ve checked all the taps.