Justin and I were in the basement discussing how to reactivate the sole remaining Mouse Palace Motel bathroom in the universe.
Then Justin asked: “Is that water?”
And the day went to Hell.
Justin pointed to a corner of the basement under the parlor. And there was, indeed, a small pool of water in the corner.
We walked over. And stared, dumbly, at the water. We then instinctively looked up to the radiator pipes above. But…there were no drips. So we looked again at the small puddle on the floor. Then back up. Still…no drips.
Justin looked at the basement wall. Then he dragged his finger across the wall.
Oh. There was a thin stream of water trickling down the wall.
Well, poo. Triple poo!
(I want to write: Well, fuck. Triple fuck! But a reader recently complained about my bad language.)
We followed the stream up and up and up. And then it vanished into the stone of the thick foundation.
We then looked at each other. Alarm was etched into our eyes.
We raced upstairs.
All the flooring just under the radiator was buckled. So, I ruthlessly cut out a corner of the finished floor, and drilled drilled drilled through the underfloor so that the piss stream would flow into the basement where it would not cause any damage.
Gosh darn it!
Travis came right over, and tomorrow the radiator system will be shut down, the system drained, the evil radiator removed, and, hopefully, the problem corrected.
I need a lot of flooring repaired in the house so this will simply be added to the list. And the damage seems confined to the corner. So, as bad things go, this was not so bad.
A greater concern is why the leak took three weeks to manifest. An eek thought.
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