Okay, for some horrific reason, I have had the theme from the old television show "Green Acres" running through my head for the last couple of days. I have no idea why. Not only have I never watched an episode of "Green Acres," I would rather watch a test pattern or "snow" than an episode of this series. I am just not a fan of "classic" television, and I don't think, given the theme song that is relentlessly playing in my head, that I would ever want to watch this program.

So why is the theme song so hopelessly stuck in my head?? Why couldn't it be one of my favorite songs by Loreena McKennitt or John McCutcheon, or even a classical piece like Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons?" Sometimes at the hospital where I work, there is a neurologist who gets consulted on patients who are on my unit. He's a bit obnoxious (but also rather entertaining), so he will be the perfect person to corner with the question, "Why do songs get stuck in my head?" while he's doing rounds. They just don't teach this practical stuff in nursing school, since they focus on more mundane things like learning physiology and saving patients' lives. Anyway, I may risk the neurologist telling me that I have some dreadful brain disease, but I figure if he doesn't have an answer, no one does.

Anyway, I am extra-tired this morning. I have had several days off from work, and have been completely committed to doing nothing but relaxing (and writing), during those days. So I was getting ready to go to bed last night, when I decided to do the few dishes that I had in my sink, so that I wouldn't have to worry about them when I get home from work tonight. Well. I was minding my own business, finishing up the dishes, all ready to climb into bed with my brand-new copy of Mary Oliver's "Rules for the Dance," when I heard the soothing sound of rain falling.

But it wasn't raining. Anyone who is the owner of an older home probably is familiar with this sinking (no pun intended) feeling that something has just gone terribly wrong in the house somewhere. So I followed the sound of the rain...into the basement. Yep, there it was, raining from the ceiling. I thought this would be an easy fix, and went upstairs to check the connections to my faucet, which occasionally come loose and leak. Well, that wasn't the problem. To compound matters, the water wasn't coming from any of the pipes where I might expect a leak. It seemed to be coming from under the back of one of my cabinets which 1. didn't make any sense and 2. hinted at a bigger problem than I would be able to deal with on New Year's Day at 10:00 in the evening.

So I called my most reliable and patient homeowner's consultant: Dad. While on the phone with him, and under my kitchen sink with a flashlight, I finally discovered that the drain pipe running from my kitchen into the basement had corroded so badly that there was a 2cm x 1cm hole in it. To make matters worse, the hole was at the very back of the pipe near the wall, which meant that any type of fix would be extremely awkward and difficult.

Dad suggested that I use duct tape or electrical tape to patch the hole until I could find a more permanent solution (such as writing a big check to a plumber for replacing the corroded pipe). That was the point at which I realized that I had absolutely no duct tape in the house. Some homeowner I am! So I patched the hole with electrical tape, but it still leaks, which means that I have no use of my kitchen sink for the time being.

So I spent the next 45 minutes or so mopping up water, repeating the mantra "you wanted to fix up an old house, you wanted to fix up an old house," whenever there was enough room in my brain to silence the "Green Acres" theme song.

On a lighter note, my two cats were endlessly entertained by my watery mishap.

Until my next post, "Green Acres is the place for me..." oh, help!