The Law of Averages basically states, given enough time events will even out. It's sort of like a socialist view of Murphy's Law but not just for bad stuff. And because I live in Canada, I can use the S word without fear of...well...fear of anything. Rightly or wrongly, I've always equated The Law of Averages to Murphy's Law. If bad stuff can happen it will and everybody usually gets their fair share and if it looks otherwise well...they aren't telling the truth.
So. What's up here? Ohh, just another little flooded basement thing which Buff discovered the other night at say, ohh, twelve at night when he went downstairs to pump a little iron and instead ended up having to pump a basement. However, on the bright side, this time there were no dogs in heat, nor warped kitchen flooring. Oh, you want to hear about that? Another time.
What is the probability that one's basement will flood for say, the umpteenth time in umpteen years and all the carpet has to be pitched and the furniture moved around and all this happens at Christmas time when the house is full of more people than usual and all the upheaval of shop vacs and dehumidifiers and other unidentifiable guy stuff being carried in and being carried out and other weird junk appearing from nowhere when one has to empty a basement in the middle of the night in the dead of winter?
I don't know. I am not mathematically inclined and could care less to try to figure it out. I do suppose though that Geek Guy will tell me, unaided by any technological devices, after he reads this. However, methinks we have had more than whatever The Law of Averages allows.
At least the oven didn't fail this year. Nevertheless, I type here with one hand as my other has fingers crossed. I'm not superstitious, however, we still have New Year's Eve to go. In the past, it has been the oven that fails at Christmas. I noticed the oven repairman just the other day driving by in his little orange van. Nasty orange. Somebody else collecting on their Murphy's Law of Averages no doubt.
Twice I had to pull buns off pans and toss them in the freezer. Twice I finished cooking a turkey at the in-laws. I thought of running the bird over to my mother's oven, but she would not understand. The Law of Averages, at least the Murphy's part, never seemed to visit my mother. She never understood my daily calamities. The three other times, I just took the bird in roaster and chucked it into a snow bank. Let it freeze. I can eat beans. I'm a farm girl. No pretention here. Anyhow, back to the basement flood. Seems the sump pump got a little temperamental...again. And then fulfilling the Murphy's Law part, we have had some mild weather melting all the snow and then rain on top of that. Speedy's efforts at a backyard hockey rink is presently more that of a soccer field. Of Course! Of course the sump would fail. It's Christmas. It's melting. It's raining.
At least it's ground water. I have that consolation, as I pull another sleeping bag from the washer. I love washing sleeping bags in winter. One gets to watch them line steam, slowly transpiring into icy sails while contemplating when this year's January thaw might come by, lest it be spring before the bags can come back inside. It also sets my sights on July - mosquitoes - squirrels invading the tent because GG likes to eat shelled peanuts in bed - temperamental camp stoves.
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