SuperDad to the rescue

We’re coming off another long weekend of yard work and house chores, just a little more in a large pile of arguments I’m collecting toward condo ownership, and then I turned on the water to do the dishes, which have been sitting all day since we’re only three people and our six arms can only do so much, and there was. No. water.

Usually when this happens, we call my dad and he de-waterlogs the tank with his air compressor, I say thanks, and resolve to learn how to do my own crap someday. Today though he decided the capacitor on the switch box was dead (haha, I wrote that like I know what it means) and since I saved the extra one he gave me and I EVEN KNEW EXACTLY WHERE IT WAS, he set about to replace it. Except then the water still didn’t come on.

So he called someone. I’ve never seen him call in help on a project before; I knew we were in for a long night when I heard that happen. The verdict is that the pump inside our well has gone bad.

“you don’t have to do this right now” I said limply while standing beside the water tank calculating hotel cost in my head. He just smirked at me and shook his head, and I ducked and tried not to think about how we probably killed the pump with our excessive sprinkler use.

Of course we do have to do it right now and by we I mean my dad, who’s at the hardware store right now buying a new pump while we watch Laker Basketball and argue about landscaping. (somehow in the landscape summits neither of us realized that we have completely, and I do mean polar opposite-visions of how our yard should look. Oops.)

Shouldn’t our homeowner’s insurance pay for room service and a swanky hotel since it’s a Sunday and anyone who didn’t have my dad in their back pocket wouldn’t have working water until tomorrow anyway? Oh right- deductibles.

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