What a Girl’s Gotta Do

This is our basement sink. It is pretty typical of the stone basins found in older Chicago homes. Washboard ridges are cast into the inside front of it. The washing machine drains into it, as does the dehumidifier. It is great for washing schipperkes and corgis. And…

Thank goodness our last home also had such a wash basin in the basement. Here’s why.

We had only just moved into our new house on Kenneth Avenue, when this perfect storm brewed:

-It was August, and really hot.

-I had (and still do have) a bad habit of turning the thermostat way down to make it get cooler faster. (Bill insists it doesn’t work that way, but I think he’s wrong.)

-Bill was long-gone, driving Ginger halfway to meet her grandmother, Miss Gigi, in Indianapolis. Then he was going to his office, not coming home until that evening.

-We had not given spare keys to anyone.

-The basement did not have a separate entry/escape.

-We were attempting to keep the dogs in the kitchen with baby-gates, when nobody was home.

-I needed socks from the basement.

In one blink, I closed the basement door behind me, so the dogs didn’t follow me downstairs. The baby-gate fell over and wedged against the basement door. I was trapped in the basement of our new house. And I’d set the thermostat to 60 degrees.

(Can I just tell you how cold it gets in the BASEMENT when the rest of the house is 60 degrees? V.E.R.Y.)

The good news?

-All of our winter coats and sweaters were in the basement, stored in the cedar closet.

-There was an old rotary phone hooked up down there, because the former homeowner worked for AT&T, and he’d installed phones and jacks everywhere.

-And there was an old basement sink, right there next to the washing machine.

I dressed myself like an eskimo. I phoned the office, to tell them I would be late. I convinced the cell phone company to put me through to my husband. I computed that I’d be trapped for at least six hours. I did laundry. I unpacked boxes. I alphabetized the laundry. I did jumping jacks. I sang campfire songs. I dialed Time and Weather. I tried to pull up the carpeting. I broke a nail.

And…

Gosh. Six hours is a long time.

Bless the basement sink.