I did say when it rains, it pours, didn't I?
Idiot. Someone took me literally.
I thought I heard something in my kitchen when I came home, but I couldn't be sure because my hearing is poor and because there are all kinds of creaks from the door and things like that.
At about 9:45 p.m., I got off the phone with a friend and passed the kitchen—and noticed yellow water all over the kitchen floor by the stove.
I opened the bedroom closet, which is where the water came down the last time there was a leak and which is where I should have looked at 7:00 p.m., when I had a suspicion. I can't believe I didn't remember that from before.
My mind has been on other things this week.
The entire wall is wet. Soaked.
I called the building engineer, who even now is pounding away upstairs, then took everything off the floor of the closet. And by everything I mean a ton of stuff.
I am a pack rat, alas.
When he fixes the leak, I'm hoping he can bring a wet-vac and clean up the carpet in the closet and bedroom, as well as the one in the main hallway, because they are all soaked.
I imagine the wall will have to be looked at as well.
All because my mind was on other things and I didn't remember to look in the closet.
I feel down about this (not to mention tired, as my intention was to get to sleep early tonight), but as I told Sharon downstairs—I am not in Gloucester.
In other words, it could be much worse.
But still, when it rains, it pours.
I will be happy, I think, when this week is over.