A few weeks ago, we discovered one of the curses of a bitterly cold winter night. A hot water pipe cracked. I can live with the burden of repairing a busted pipe, but this pipe was burst at some point within our concrete slab. The water was leaking into a space underneath the hot water heater. This space is probably close to 18 cubic feet of space, perhaps a bit more. Needless to say, the repair was expensive.
When the plumber cut away the sheet rock to expose the space under the hot water heater, I was at once amazed and mortified at the discovery. The sight was, for my struggle, the equivalent of finding WMDs in Iraq. Like the Hebrews at Mossad, or the Rohirrim at Helms Deep, or even the Viennese anticipating the advancing Ottoman armies; there at the gates, laying siege to my fortress, was the siege-works of a mighty colony of ants. This colony of mighty ant warriors consumed nearly half the space in the chamber below our hot water heater with their mound. Only ten feet from the heart of our home, from the room we hold most dear - the kitchen.
But God does work in mysterious ways. For you see, the cold weather that caused the leak in our hot water pipe was the end of that ant colony stealthily positioned at our gates. The hot water scalded and killed the furtive formicidae. This further proves my thesis that God is constantly mocking us. Since I had prayed that He would rid our home of ants and He chose a busted pipe as the answer. I am constantly amazed at His creativity in answering prayers.
I must commend my enemy, though; he took great risk to life and limb, staked out a position that I would be most unlikely to discover, and raided our stores unmercifully. But for a busted pipe, his stealth would have remained beyond my gaze and beyond the targeting of my weapons.
The war has just intensified, however, as I have learned more of my enemy's methods. The challenge for the spring offensive will be to find new methods and new weapons to infiltrate their hidden habitat.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Enough already!
I hate snow. Alright, not the snow so much, but what the snow leaves behind.
Late last week we received about 12 inches of snow. By my measurement, at least 9 inches of that snow accumulated. The snow made for great fun for the whole family in the form of snowball fights, building snowmen, making snow ice cream, etc.
But that was four days ago. Today we have the remnants. The accumulated snow has left us with a sodden legacy. Where we once had a beautiful blanket of snow, the likes of which have not been seen in these parts in over 30 years, we now have a muddy marsh for a lawn.
The dogs track in mud, the kids track in mud, I track in mud, and somehow the mud has found its way onto the paved parts of our property. Even when we remove our shoes before entering, we manage to still track in mud because our socks have somehow become contaminated with the stuff.
I became aware of the problem of the mud when, as my inner Hazel came out, I was mopping the floor, I saw doggie mud prints everywhere. The doggie mud prints were on the hardwoods, on the area rugs, under the area rugs, on the coffee table (I don't even want to know how), and of course, on the couch.
Just to make sure I really hate the residual effects of snow, God has decided to taunt us with the possibility of more snow tonight. Oh, joy!
It could be worse, though. I could be one of those people that bases their environmentalism on the premise of global warming. I wonder what kind of internal conflict must those folks be going through?
Late last week we received about 12 inches of snow. By my measurement, at least 9 inches of that snow accumulated. The snow made for great fun for the whole family in the form of snowball fights, building snowmen, making snow ice cream, etc.
But that was four days ago. Today we have the remnants. The accumulated snow has left us with a sodden legacy. Where we once had a beautiful blanket of snow, the likes of which have not been seen in these parts in over 30 years, we now have a muddy marsh for a lawn.
The dogs track in mud, the kids track in mud, I track in mud, and somehow the mud has found its way onto the paved parts of our property. Even when we remove our shoes before entering, we manage to still track in mud because our socks have somehow become contaminated with the stuff.
I became aware of the problem of the mud when, as my inner Hazel came out, I was mopping the floor, I saw doggie mud prints everywhere. The doggie mud prints were on the hardwoods, on the area rugs, under the area rugs, on the coffee table (I don't even want to know how), and of course, on the couch.
Just to make sure I really hate the residual effects of snow, God has decided to taunt us with the possibility of more snow tonight. Oh, joy!
It could be worse, though. I could be one of those people that bases their environmentalism on the premise of global warming. I wonder what kind of internal conflict must those folks be going through?
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