Mr. Yoy picked me up from the spa and we headed home. I was relaxed but also teenage boy hungry. As soon as we arrived home, I began throwing together my lunch for instant inhalation.
Little E wandered upstairs with his brother and they began playing on the computer. Mr. Yoy crawled into bed for a lazy Saturday nap.
I sat at our kitchen island and ate everything in reach.
MOM! MOM! THE TOILET ISN'T GOING DOWN!
Little E yelled for my help from upstairs. I was not about to break up the food fest happening, so I told Little E to leave it and I'd be up when I finished my lunch.
MMMMM. CARROTS AND HUMMUS. MMMMM. SMART POP POPCORN. MMMMM. DRY ROASTED NUTS.
I wouldn't call this is a traditional lunch, but it was hitting all my highlights.
Then I heard it. Water running. After nine years, I can pinpoint every water sound my house makes. This is how I knew I had burst a pipe in the kitchen last winter. And this is how I knew something very wrong was happening in my house. This was not a regular toilet flushing, or a shower, or the washing machine.
I bolted upstairs as I shouted out not good for you words.
Water. Covering the Yoysers' bathroom floor. I screamed in panic for Mr. Yoy who was napping. I grabbed every towel we had and covered the bathroom floor. And most importantly, I turned off the water. This was NOT my first time at the rodeo.
Then I ran downstairs.
More water. Dripping out of our dining room chandelier. More bad for you words.
I called my realtor. I called my mom. I lost my mind.
I had just spent the better part of a month keeping my house in pristine condition. You could eat off our kitchen floors and just to prove that point, we did.
And now I had water damage. Holes were going to be cut into my ceiling. I was so upset and frustrated, I cried. I couldn't really be mad at Little E, but a small part of me was. He did flush the toilet a second time after I asked him to leave it.
He apologized with his sweet, sad little face and I slowly recovered.
We had a water reparations company come out and for most of the week, we had industrial blowers and dehumidifiers running. It was like living on the runway of Hartsfield Jackson. I could barely hear my own thoughts. Mr. Yoy and I yelled at each other like 80 year olds.
We refused to show the house. We didn't want people to see our lovely home in its current state. But there were plenty of people who wanted to see it. We finally allowed two showings on Saturday, after our realtor explained the situation to them.
And then the unimaginable happened, one person looked past our disaster and put a great offer in on our home. And we accepted. And it was a Passover miracle.