You know your vacation is over when…

…you drive up to your house and see a fire truck,

…your neighbors are standing around in freezing temps in their shirtsleeves, looking unhappy,

…and, the firemen are turning off the water to the high-pressure fire sprinklers in the ceiling of all the flats.

Welcome home! Your flat has flooded. Again.

This time it’s not our fault – it appears that we should have coordinated being away with the neighbors. We all left for at least three consecutive days. Big mistake. Even leaving a trickle of water running didn’t work – the pipes have frozen, and we all have a room flooded – Lesley’s kitchen lights are out and they’re filled with water, Steven downstairs has water seeping through the ceiling and the sprinklers in his flat burst, and we haven’t heard from upstairs yet.

We have sopping wet bathroom rugs. Oh. And the $@%$*%&!# mushroom is growing under the toilet again in a big nest of mold.

Don’t laugh. (Jama-J, I’m looking at you.) The mushroom is dead, and there will be no pictures. And THIS TIME at least we know that it grew because of water seeping through the sandstone, carrying with it whatever little nasties from outside. It has nothing to do with our housekeeping, or lack of it. …despite what we’re tempted to think as we’re down there sluicing the floor with boiling water and bleach…

::sigh:: Welcome home, indeed. Still, we are grateful to have had a great flight (even with the fifty minute stop in Manchester) and a restful time, and will have energy to deal with this next mess…eh, maybe tomorrow.