New houses don't stay new forever. Carpets wear thin, countertops get dull, and walls and floorboards get scuffed, dented, and generally worn out. My favorite thing in the world was paint. With a gallon of paint I could brighten and clean a room in just a few hours, but even that only lasted for a year or two.
When we first moved into our home in Gilbert I spent days stenciling ivy on my kitchen walls, pillars and Grecian urns in my front room, and country flowers in the TV room. As the years passed I changed the ivy to apple's and leaves, the pillars to an English garden, and the flowers to Scandinavian designs. But in the bedrooms I got more inventive.
I painted a sailboat in Stephen's room, with rope and anchors trailing around the ceiling. Kami's room became a palace for a princess, Krissi's room was the Griffindor dormitory, complete with Crukshanks, Hermione's tabby cat sitting on a chair in the corner. I painted a window looking out over the ocean in the downstairs bathroom, a Hawaiin beach in the extra downstairs bedroom, and a harbor looking out towards a lighthouse in my room. I loved them all, and they kept my attention from fixating on the worn out carpet below.
One fall break, Moe and I took the kids who were still home up to spend a week at the cabin. We had a glorious time, and I didn't look forward to coming home. On Friday afternoon we called mom and dad to check in and see how things were going.
“I'm afraid we've got a problem here,” mom told me as soon as she answered the phone. “There's been a flood in your side of the house, and it's a mess.”
“A flood?” I asked in surprise. “What happened?”
“Well,” mom explained, “dad went over to check your house on Monday, and saw that the faucet in your bedroom was leaking. He got some new parts and thought he'd fixed it, but Tuesday night we heard running water and went over to see what was going on. Water was pouring out of your bedroom, onto the landing, and rushing down the stairs just like a waterfall. I guess the new faucet sprung a leak or something, and water was spraying all over your bathroom. It must have broken sometime Monday night. It flooded your bedroom and bathroom, then soaked through the floor and flooded the bedrooms and bathroom downstairs. It's a mess!”
“Oh mom,” I exclaimed in concern. “I'm sorry!”
“Dad got the leak stopped, and the boys came over and helped him pull out the carpets and move the furniture, but we don't know how much damage has been done, yet. We'll have to get a contractor to come and look at the walls next week.”
I felt terrible. Not for me, but for my poor dad and brothers who had had to work so hard to clean up my flooded house. As for me, I was actually kind of excited. If my carpets were ruined, maybe I'd get new floors!
We came home the next day, and it was worse than I'd even imagined. The water had soaked half way up the upstairs walls, through the ceiling, and totally destroyed the downstairs.
Thank goodness we had good homeowners insurance. An adjuster came and figured out the damage, giving dad an estimate that would pay for all of the repairs. All of my murals were ruined, and even though I knew I could paint new ones, the adjuster gave us an extra generous allowance to cover the ruined “original artwork”. How flattering!
With the extra money we were able to upgrade the flooring, laying tile throughout the house. I loved how easy it was to sweep my floors. No more carting the heavy vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs, and the tile was always cool on my bare feet, even in the middle of the hot summer. I also got a new bathtub in my bathroom, which I loved. Before, we'd just had a walk-in shower. Now I could take long, leisurely bubble baths in the winter, something I'd wanted to do for years.
What fun it was, months later when the construction was finally finished, to move back in. It was like moving into a new house. And best of all, I had all new, fresh white walls, just waiting for me to come up with new pictures to paint.
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