Are you at all superstitious? You know, like do you believe it’s good luck when a ladybug lands on your arm or when a bird shits on your head, or when you find a four leaf clover? Well, I can’t really vouch for the ladybug or the bird shit, but I can tell you that four leaf clovers are freakin’ wolves in sheeps’ clothing. Believe me — those little fu&%ers bring anything but good fortune.
Of course, when little dude found one outside last Wednesday at the camp he attended for April vacation, we were all jazzed about it. I mean, what are the odds of a 6-year-old magically finding a good luck charm in the yard at the local middle school? He brought it home that day and we ooh-ed and ahh-ed over it and all that good stuff — and we went out for a nice family dinner complete with drinks, steaks, and a few laughs.
But when we got home that night, we realized we were in for a real treat — because the grinder pump in our house totally burned out, making it un-fixable.
And for those of you who are city-types or live somewhere a little less primitive than northeast Connecticut, grinder pumps are exactly what they sound like. They literally “grind” up the shit and pump it out to the street, where the city sewer system (I said it was primitive out here, not completely uninhabitable) sends it off to the sewage treatment plant.
And if your grinder pump doesn’t work, then you can’t put anything down the drain — which means you can’t flush the toilets, take showers, use the sink, run the dishwasher, etc. (Basically all the things that signal me to get the hell out of dodge if I can’t have them).
Little dude was already in bed that night, so we did the whole, “if it’s yellow let it mellow,” thing — and I put plastic bags in each of the bathrooms in the event that one of us had a code brown. (Thank GOD no one did).
And then the next day, the hubster went to work, and little dude and I went to my mom’s where we could shit, flush, and shower (duh), and sometime around 4 p.m., Mr. Grinder Pump Man came out to the house and installed a new system to the tune of a few thousand dollars. (FML).
So — we went to bed in our house on Thursday night broke, but completely ecstatic that we could once again run the water and live like civilized people.
And then fu&%ing Friday had to roll around.
At about 3 p.m. or so, I made a brief phone call to my mom — and started swearing and saying, “Oh my GOD!” over and over again while talking to her — and told her I’d have to call her back because my fu&%ing ceiling was leaking and dripping onto my couch.
Isn’t that lovely? Not exactly a sight you want to see right before you kick off your weekend. I was CONVINCED that the master bedroom toilet (the source of the leak) was about to come through the damn floor and wind up ON MY COUCH — but then the hubster came home, shut off the water, drained the leak, cut a hole in the ceiling (holy fu&%ing shit), and found out that a faulty pipe was the culprit. (Apparently the asshats who built this house 5-years-ago don’t know SHIT about plumbing).
The hubster spent most of this weekend fixing the leak and repairing the ceiling, while I drank plenty of wine and vowed never to let anyone in this family pick up a fu%&ing four leaf clover again.
Ok, enough bitching and moaning. Time to go pour a wine and give the four leaf clover that’s still sitting on my windowsill the finger.
(Little dude is still SO proud of that damn thing, so I don’t have the heart to throw it out. I told you guys I was the world’s best mom.)
*HOLY EFFIN’ MOTHER-FU&%ER – As I was finishing up editing this post…the FU&%ING POWER WENT OUT. OMG. You seriously can’t make this shit up. FML.*