When it rains it pours

I like water. I think it has nice qualities. I like to waterski in it and it is my drink of choice. Rain is especially nice, except when it is in my house. I've had two run-ins with rain in my house recently. The first involves my sunroom which has been leaking progressively worse in the past year. A few days ago it was raining hard outside, and just as hard inside. I showed our roofer, who had removed some rain gutter type of thing, and he quickly tried to make the rain shower less. The sunroom is now history, torn off by our neighbor Jordan this very day. He is building on a new room for us, hopefully leak proof.

Second incident - I was sleeping soundly at the cabin last Friday night with 21 other people - young women and leaders from our stake for a camp YCL work night. At 4:30 a.m. I awoke to rain in the cabin - in my bedroom. Since it was coming from the ceiling I quickly deduced the source - upstairs. I found the hot water pipe had blown from its happy copper home. Like the little dutch boy holding back the damn dam, I stuck the pipe into its home and quietly yelled a few people's names to get someone to come and help me. My pals Sarah and Callie came to the rescue and Callie held the damn while I shut off the water in the dark, outside with 1,000 mosquitoes. Then I turned the generator on to survey the damage. The carpet in the upstairs bathroom was soaked as was the carpet in the bathroom on the main floor, the carpet in my bedroom and the basement carpet, couch and pillow. And one young woman. We mopped up a little and went back to bed. I spent 5 1/2 hours drying things out the next day, including sheets, pillowcases, quilts and clothes from the main bedroom closet. I'm done with water. Really.