Damn ball joints messing with my sill cock.

As many of you on the East Coast are aware, it's hot. Not as hot as last week, but still, hot. The garden is wilting. I am wilting. And the boys look like they have small pox. Especially Joe with his still developing sweat glands. I won't horrify you with a photo, as his alabaster skin covered with a red prickly heat rash is quite alarming.

To beat the oppressive temps, we finally rigged up a sprinkler. Our house is sadly lacking a water spigot, sill cock, hose bib...whatever you want to call it. But we fished a hose through a basement window, hooked it up to the utility sink and voila! Summer relief.











It was great until we realized the connection in the basement was spewing water all over the place. We even switched hoses. Do they make a hose that doesn't leak?! I'm beginning to think not.

I know we should just call a plumber and get a thingy installed to the exterior. That was the plan until I got slammed with a failed inspection for bad ball joints. Ugh. So the sink will have to do for now. We'll just have to keep the flow low so any spray is actually just a dribble into the sink. Of course this will also lead me to wring my hands with a clenched jaw as I try to enjoy the frolicking of my young boys, while thinking about the mold issues I may be creating in the basement.

Oh, I exaggerate...kinda. I'm pretty sure, however, that I will be running to the basement every 3-5 minutes to make sure we're all good down there. The sacrifices we make for fun.