This is a picture of the ceiling in our “breakfast nook.”
Yesterday a piece of the ceiling was removed
The other day when I noticed our ceiling coming apart, I realized we had a leak.
What you see is the floor to our second story and pipes that transport water from upstairs.
Nobody could figure out where the leak was coming from.
The plumber came and took a guess. He dismantled our toilet…
…but his guess was wrong. We then had a bad leak in addition to no toilet.
He wouldn’t reinstall our toilet without charging us $750 dollars to fix it because it hadn’t originally been installed “to code,” even though that’s not where the leak was from.
I told the plumber to leave. Without re-installing the toilet, thank you.
My husband had the friend that helped remodel our house come over to find the source of the problem.
They fixed it while I was at book club. All better.
This morning my husband took a shower. And I took a bath.
…When I fell into the slip-and-slide on the breakfast nook floor.
It’s still leaking. We think we know it’s from the shower. But the leak is a mystery.
THIS IS A PICTURE OF ME.
I have a leak.
It happens sometimes after I put my daughter down for a nap.
The water comes from someplace deep inside my soul…and leaves a path that is hard to trace.
I’m not sure if I will ever find the true source of tears.
And if I do…if it will be repairable.
The questions and concerns grow as I sit…exposed.