Looking out my Backdoor: Grumbles in a Bucket

After all my bragging about all the lovely rain we’ve been having, day after day after day, this past week we’ve been dry as a desiccated bone in the desert.

I’ve been floored with a couple wet exceptions.

Saturday morning I woke up with puddles on my bathroom floor, around the toilet. Easy to figure out where that water was dripping, from tank to tile.

Josue, our resident plumber, electrician, fix-all man, is still in California. Leo looked at the tank and, wisely, said he thought I should call a plumber. “I should” translates to “he calls.”

This part of my story might be hard for you to swal...