However, all that was literally nothing compared to what happened next.
My parents and sister came over on a Saturday night to help decorate our Christmas tree... we ate like savage beasts and filled our sink high with dishes.
I let the dishes sit over night because the garbage disposal had been acting up, making the dishwasher act up... I figured it was something I could just take care of in the morning.
So Sunday morning comes along, and I attempt to attack the piles of dishes by hand.
I am running the water, and washing, and scrubbing, and running the water.
Every so often Husband would come in and run the garbage disposal and the water would go down, and then spit back out in my face.
We knew this was a problem but were like, eh... we can fix it after we have an empty sink.
Except we never got that far because just as Husband was walking out the door to get a coffee (his new vice since quitting the Monsters) I heard water running.
No, not running... rushing, whooshing, POURING underneath our dishwasher.
I'm all... "Uh... do you hear that?"
And he's all... "I don't give a shit I am going to get my coffee."
Ahhh my Husband, the caffeine addict.
Lucky for me, and him, and everyone... I am a persistent little beagle when I want to be, and I hounded him until he decided that getting me to shut the fuck up was much more important than his coffee.
I'm all: "You can't leave! The house will flood! We will lose all our appliances!"
Spoiler alert... turns out I should have been a plumber cause I knew exactly what the frig I was talking about.
Husband began by running the garbage disposal again.
Here's a hint... don't do that.
I am all...
"Let's try plunging the disposal, and then let's take the elbow corner thing off where the pipes meet under the sink... maybe whatever is stuck will come out."
And Husband... bless his heart... he is now in dire need of caffeine is just not really being a nice person at all anymore.
He begins by telling me I am disgusting for wanting him to plunge the sink with a plunger (even though the plumber later said that I was practically a plumbing genius for suggesting it, see, shoulda been a plumber).
Try as we might though, the plunging didn't get us very far.
I kept yipping about taking the elbow off under the sink.
I got busy getting out six large Tupperware bowls and kept hounding him... "Take the elbow off! Get the water out! I would rather the water in a bucket than under our appliances!"
Mind you... the whooshing water is still whooshing... so this was a high stress, panic situation.
Husband though, he did nothing but ignore me. He is a man so he is really good at that.
He was going about his business not taking the elbow off and I was running around like a maniac (I blame the pregnancy hormones).
I decide that I am going to get the shop vac and suck the water out of the sink because remember, our sink is full of water, and it is pouring out somewhere under our dishwasher.
I bring the shop vac into the kitchen and Husband gives me a sigh and a side glance like, 'Why are you trying to be a plumber right now!?' before saying: "You have to take the filter out before you use it."
Now I have no fucking idea what the fuck this guy is talking about but I am not about to ask him questions right now because the dude is NOT HAPPY.
Remember, we had just bought a new fridge, and new beds, and a new mattress... ohandplusalso... he was automatically blaming the garbage disposal clog on me.
Something about how I would put a small animal down there if I could.
Anyway, back to me and the shop vac.
I am trying with all my might to figure out what the Heck a filter is, and Husband decides that that would be the perfect moment to finally listen to me, and take the elbow off the pipe.
WITHOUT WARNING ME!!
OR SETTING UP ANY OF THE BOWLS I HAD PULLED OUT!
Okay... so... Husband pulls the elbow off the pipe and it was pretty much Niagara Falls in our kitchen.
I'm screaming (oh yeh, I also have no voice this particular day, so I sound like a dying cat as I'm screaming) and grabbing bowls and Husband is mother effing things up and down, and the bowls are filling up so fast and I'm all : "Go dump it on the deck!"
And I am filling the bowls and before I know it all 6 bowls are filled and the water just freaking keeps coming.
I grabbed a billion dishtowels and cereal bowls and kept screaming / screeching until Husband finally came back with another empty bowl.
And then the water stopped pouring out.
All that was left of the insane panic attack moment... was sopping wet towels, and a slow drip drip drip underneath the dishwasher.
Husband and I just looked at each other, and that is when I knew that if he could have blamed every last bit of what was going wrong on me, he would have.
Instead... he started trying to pull the dishwasher out... because we knew that there was a ton of water under there.
Well... the dishwasher, that thing didn't want to come out.
I went to check on the kids, who were in the TV room with my sister, and came back to find Husband kicking the dishwasher.
So it was going well.
Husband decided it was time to go turn off all the power to the dishwasher... which should have been a two minute process... except, it wasn't.
I went and sat next to my sister after he had been gone 10 minutes... I couldn't hold it in anymore, I started to cry.
I knew that if it was taking this long for him to flip a switch, that the leak must have gotten into the basement.
And it had.
Water had poured down the walls... just missing Husband's work desk that I had just begged him to put down there.
I found Husband sitting with his head in his hands like a broken man.
I knew then that it didn't matter whose fault it was at that point... what mattered was that it was Christmas, and I was very pregnant, and we already had a billion expenses... and now we needed to add dishwasher, plumber, and carpenter to the list.
Neither one of us knew what to say, so we just sat, side by side, listening to the drip, drip, drip of water coming down the walls in the basement.
So much for a relaxing Sunday morning.
To be continued.....