Our Moldy Souls

The title pretty much sums up our last week.

Except you know it doesn’t.

There are more details 

and background 

and possibly a few pictures.

It has rained A LOT this summer.

Like, so much that my soul is starting to mold.

I just heard that out of the past 30 days, 28 had measurable rain.

28 days of rain, people!

And that does very little in the way 

of motivation for me.

For anything.

Like sometimes being patient.

Or kind.

On the bright side, our patio got finished! 

And we did a quick DIY project with these poles and lights over the 4th of July weekend.

Just waiting on the rain to stop long enough
for grass to be planted and some landscaping done.

Patio on the 4th of July.

Patio today.

McDaniel and Ellie went camping with their bible study group last week.

One of the moms has a camper and brave spirit and invited a slew of girls into the woods.

In the rain. 

God love her.

On the day they were to leave, Monte had scheduled an appointment with the cable company to fix our extremely spotty and sluggish wifi. 

Since I would know nothing more to say to them except,

“Make it go faster!”

Monte decided to come home to discuss speeds 

and routers and things that put me into a coma.

For whatever reason, I decided to take a bath that morning.

I walked out of the bathroom to the girls hollering for me to come downstairs.

Knowing that the cable guys were getting ready to ring the door bell any second and I was in my robe, I declined.

They kept hollering things up to me like,

“It’s bad!

It’s really bad!”

So I went downstairs to see what was so bad.

Water was pouring out of the recessed light fixture dangerously close to the piano.

And dripping from other spots in the ceiling as well.

The ceiling that was just painted, 

in part, 

during our renovation project.

It was bad!

I called Monte and we decided that the plumbing service we had just called the week before to unclog our drains (I know, AGAIN!) may have broken something or left something loose.

Monte decided to call our beloved builder Paul and ask his thoughts.
(He was on vacation the week before which is why I didn’t call him originally.)

Two seconds after the cable guys showed up, 

Paul and Jay showed up.

We had a house full of help.

After just a few seconds looking at our pipes, Jay asked if the plumber who had been here before was a "big guy."

And not in the muscular way.

He was.

He said his arms were too “big" to fit into the tiny space and tighten the pipes fully after working on them.

Whoa.

**Our daily showers weren’t enough pressure to cause a leak, 

but the rush of water draining from a full bath tub was.

In case you were wondering.

Luckily, it was an easy peasy fix for slender, in-shape Jay. 

The next day I happened to get a follow up email from the original plumbing service to write a review of my plumber.

I toyed with the idea of saying something like,

“Nice guy, but his love of pie almost ruined 

my newly painted ceilings!” 

But I was afraid that was just my rain-soaked, 

moldy soul talking.

So I deleted the email.

Monte and I had big plans to go out to eat, go see a movie and possibly walk around the city while the girls were camping.

But it rained.

No, it didn’t just rain. 

Water was unleashed from the sky.

Bucket and buckets of water.

So we decided to get take-out and order a movie from Apple TV.

Except our wifi wasn’t working.

Yes, the very same wifi that two people were here over an hour “fixing”.

Monte drove his VERY moldy soul right to the cable company office building.

He texted me that he was 18th in line.

18th.

The good news is, he isn’t still waiting in line, 

we have a new server 

and our wifi seems to have perked up considerably.

And no one at the cable company had to die.

Our next night with no girls at home, it rained harder.

No, seriously.

So we cooked seafood at home and brought out all the equipment we have accumulated 

through the years to eat seafood but rarely get to use because not so many people in the 

Midwest actually like seafood.

Sometimes it’s fun to use a lot of tools on your food.

It was lovely.

And we went to bed at 9:38 like we were the parents of newborns.

It was glorious.

Nigel went to the groomer on Friday.

I noticed as I was paying,

a higher price because they charged me a “detangling” fee (?!)

that Nigel kept pawing at his eye.

I thought maybe he didn’t like the way he smelled.

He often sneezes 47 times after being groomed and chews at his bandanna until we take it off.

We were having dinner guests so I busied myself cooking while the girls noticed just how squinty and red Nigel’s eye was getting.

Ellie had a friend spend the night and as I was making them pancakes for breakfast the next morning, Monte was texting from the very crowded vet office that a cat had just swatted and barely missed Nigel’s hurt eye.

And also caused Monte to wheeze, 

develop a headache 

and cement his theory that all cats are evil.

The vet said the irritated eye was either an allergic reaction to the shampoo the groomer used or a scratch from loose hair.

We got some antibiotic drops and a large bill.

I felt like slapping an eye patch on Nigel, loading him up in the car, going back to the groomer and demanding AT LEAST the detangling fee back as restitution. 

But that was definitely my moldy soul talking.

Later that night, 

McDaniel came home from a babysitting job looking like this:

She did not go to the babysitting job looking like that.

The 4th grade little girl she was babysitting watched a bunch of You Tube make up videos and decided that McDaniel would make a great guinea pig.

The little girl said to McDaniel,

“This is a casual dramatic look.”

I’m not sure about you, but I’m not seeing 

the casualness of this look.

She also said, 

“Please tell me you are going to party after this!”

Not over my dead body 

EVER 

looking like that!

McDaniel feared getting pulled over by the police on the way home and having to look the cop in the eye with her overly made up face and nervously assure him that it was ok because, 

“A 4th grade girl did it." 

On Sunday, a friend of mine and her daughter visited our church.

We all went to lunch together afterwards.

As Monte was talking over one of the sermon points with my friend,

I noticed something looked different about one arm of his long-sleeve dress shirt than the other.

It was ripped.

I pointed out the rip to Monte and without remembering who I was talking to for a second, 

I told him not to rip the shirt any further.

Three seconds later and to the TOTAL SHOCK AND HORROR of our daughters, our friends and the people sitting close to us at Panera,

Monte had managed to rip his entire sleeve mostly off.

It was an Incredible Hulk moment with a Larry the Cable Guy result.

At least on one side.

That man.

My friend and I chatted as we headed to the door to leave.

She stopped what she was saying and burst out laughing.

There was Monte, by the outdoor patio WHERE OTHER PANERA CUSTOMERS WERE EATING, wearing nothing but his undershirt.

I guess we missed him not bother with unbuttoning 

and just rip off the rest of his shirt and toss it into the trash can.

I blame his moldy soul.