Things that go Squish in the Night

"Houston, we have a Problem"
Those words were uttered by Number One Daughter at 4am. She had rolled over in bed and it had gone 'squish' and even in her not quite lucid state she had thought 'that can't be right' and it wasn't

A hose on the washing machine had let go. The kitchen was awash, there was an ever enlarging lake in the lounge room and the tide was inexorably approaching our bedroom door.

Every single towel, old blanket and anything else that could possibly sop up water was pressed into service.
Down stairs in our daughter's flat, water poured down the newly painted walls, dripped out of the light fittings and the carpet was akin to walking on a bed of sea squirts.

Spent last week with fan heaters drying out the carpet, which now smelled like a wet dog and watching the ceiling paint slowly peel off the roof in sheets. The upstairs floating flooring has now become the 'smiling flooring' as the boards start to curl on the ends.

The insurance assessor has been today. Have paid insurance for 20 years on this house and made 3 claims so it remains to be seen how much the insurance company will cough up.
Now did I turn that dishwasher off at the tap?

Of Rain and Martyrdom

My haunting career has been sorely tried.
I mean, the half glimpsed presence in the shady grove at twilight, the silver apparition in the damp and misty morn before the sun burns it all away or the distant figure on the windblown hillside are all very romantic.
Standing in the pouring rain in over-size gumboots with a battered and leaking umberella is NOT.
The same weather pattern that deluged us a few weeks ago, returned so I was reduced to haunting the mail box from the shelter of the front verandah. Somehow it wasn't the same.
Suddenly one morning, on the table, there IT was!
It seems Australia Post took pity on me and risked our driveway which resembled a river bed to deliver the parcel to the safety of our garage while we were out. Good job too - the sight of a very mature aged woman squeeling and throwing her arms about a young, handsome, nubile delivery man is . . . .ohhh now I've come over all hot and flushed. .

So did I rip the package apart in a mad feeding frenzy to get to the delicious contents?
I decided that as I had tasks that had to be completed that I would keep opening the package as a reward. What! shrieked my inner self, wait some more, are you barking-mad? But I resisted. I can wait to read "Enchanted Adornments"
So who else besides me does this sort of thing? Who else keeps thing as a reward? C'mon 'fess up!
Oh, and don't ya just love the smell of burning martyr?