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Alright, so I seem to have recovered from the cold that's been hammering me for the last couple of days, and it seems that Colorado has decided that I deserve further punishment. Epic rain, most unseasonable and the heaviest I've ever seen here: it's been raining about eighteen hours in twenty-four for the last three days. The drains are barely coping, and atmospheric humidity is way up. Depressingly, there's no thunder or lightning of any kind, except the occasional desultory flicker.
Still, the weather can't stop everything, so today Rachael, Mike and I went over to our mutual friend Isaac's new house. Isaac has ... secured a bargain in his new place, and consequently a certain amount of improvement work is required. We spent most of the day in the basement, replacing 2ft and 4ft sections of drywall, making holes for the power sockets and other discontinuities that get in the way. Drywall is peculiar stuff: it seems to be sheets of highly compressed gypsum clay with a paper backing. It cuts with a Stanley knife, but takes screws, drills and similar without any trouble. It's kinda crumbly, I must have had five or six corners snap clean off today when fitting panels to spaces for which they weren't quite correctly formed, but, since there's a plaster coat going over the top, I'm not too worried about it.
Anyway, the new victim is Rachael. Like many basements, the one in Doom House (name changed to protect the desperately-in-need-of-further-work) has a sump pit at the lowest point to collect any water that seeps in through the walls. Of course, in this weather it's working overtime, and the sump pump that belongs in that pit is out of action (unsurprisingly, it needs some maintenance). There's a temporary submersible pump in there, and it's mostly equal to the job, but there's always a few inches in the bottom of the 2ft manhole. So, to the Fail. Yeah, Rachael carefully marked the position of the sump, stood over it to plaster the half-centimetre gap between two pieces of drywall, then stepped back into it. Hilarious to hear about, of course not so funny to actually do... I suspect I'll go over there at least once more before I go home (I happen to like home improvement projects, ok?), so I wonder who'll get bitten by the house next time.
Assuming it doesn't float away in this rain, of course...