Wet feet

[wayfaringwordhack]

Yesterday, it rained. And rained and rained. Luckily, most of the time it was a steady downpour that only once became torrential, allowing most of the water to run off. 100L of water emptied. Before 

mana_trini left on his overnight fishing trip, I asked him to wedge a piece of wood between a beam and the tin to try to prevent collected water from running back under and pouring down on the bed. Because it wasn't raining at the time, we couldn't see if we got the wood in the right spot.

We didn't. At 3:30 am, I awoke to wet feet. I was not and am not amused. If J would have been home, he would have felt it much sooner--since it's on his side of the bed--and the puddle wouldn't have soaked the bedding again. I spent nigh on 3O minutes trying to fix the problem, but I'm not tall enough, even standing on a bar stool, to reach the terrace roof. I got a long pole and tried to lift the tin to run the water down, studiously avoiding the fiberglass sheets, new though they are. I went back to bed and ten minutes later heard splat, splat, splat.

ARGH!

The landlord still has not returned our messages. That does not amuse me either.

 

I'm not going to let another night of ruined sleep get me down, though. I'm going to attack the housework and do some baking. After sleeping on a speedboat in the middle of the ocean, J should appreciate coming back to a clean home and fresh goodies.