If we’d only used a condom, there wouldn’t be a 9-foot-deep hole in my front yard.
The causality might not be immediately apparent. Allow me to elaborate.
I wrote a while back about Operation Get Rid of All the Crap. To eventually accommodate Bunter, we need to open up another room on the second floor. We decided to move the room where adults watch TV (the children call it The Forbidden Room, which sounds pretty great coming from the mouth of a 2.75 year old) to the basement. Our basement is not finished, but the main storage room isn’t totally depressing (painted brick walls, painted concrete floor, only a few pipes here and there). It was a big operation, though. First I had to move all the shit out of that room (simultaneously sorting and reorganizing it) and get Mr. Bunny to confront the portions of it belonging to him, and get him to agree to move things like SOFAS and CHAIRS down multiple flights of stairs (or allow me to hire undergrads). And seize the opportunity to go through the entire house and collect all the useless rubbish and add it to the heap. Anyway, I did it a little bit at a time and before long had a giant pile Things to be Disposed of in the middle of that basement room.
And then the basement flooded.
This happens once every four years or so during really heavy rain, and while it SUCKS, after the first flood we learned to store everything off the floor. Except not when we are using the floor as a staging area during Operation Get Rid of All the Crap.
The good part was that the stuff was stuff we wanted to get rid of, so we didn’t lose anything we cared about. And it gave my spouse the necessary kick in the pants to confront his part of the crap (like the boxes of books he promised to donate to the library TWO YEARS AGO). The downside was that some of the crap will end up in the landfill rather than donated, and the whole process was much grosser than it would have been otherwise.
And it meant that if we wanted to have human space down there, we needed to not have floods. Who wants to watch Last Tango in Halifax (so charming!) on a sofa covered with MOLD while dirty water laps at her ankles?
So we talked to the people who do work on our house. The water comes up from the drains when the city system gets overwhelmed.
They brought in some guys who used a big snake (the plumbing kind, not a python) and a camera (how cool!) to try to figure out where the problem was. The basement conveniently flooded AGAIN the day before, just so they’d get a good sense of the problem. FUCK OFF, RAIN. My sad watermelon plants need SUN.
Anyway, it wasn’t long before they reported that the problem was somewhere in the middle of our yard, so they’d need to dig a hole to figure it out. When I got home from work I was Quite Shocked at the size of it. Best case scenario (a phrase THEY use an awful lot…), when I get home they will have located and solved the problem. More likely…well…I don’t really want to think about it, because it involves a giant sewage-filled sinkhole with my house floating on top.
SO. Practice safe sex, all you opposite-sex-partnered fertile whores.