Brisket has been gone two whole days and the cotterpin house is already crashing down around my ears.
Well…maybe not crashing down exactly…more like slowly eroding away.
Scene: Last night. 11:30p.m (what? I’m a night owl when I don’t have anyone to remind me that it’s time for bed.)
Location: Basement- typically a cramped, dark and creepy place in the daylight, more so in the dead of night.
Circumstances: I had started some laundry- but was promptly distracted by a few clothing catalogs, a phone call from Brisket, and working on a new pair of flats- when I realized at 11:25p.m. that I hadn’t put the laundry in the dryer yet.
Our basement configuration is unique, and the washer and dryer do not sit next to each other like every other washer and dryer in the world. This requires carrying (or if you’re like me, half carrying/half throwing) our wet clothes a few steps away to the dryer.
As I began moving the wet clothes from the washer, my bare foot stepped on the nearby throw rug, and squished…
Our basement is shadowy- and the lone light bulb barely sheds enough light on the brightest day- but yes, there was a pool of something in front of my dryer. A very large pool. More like a lake.
At first I thought maybe Stella had an accident, or had thrown up, but then a distinct smell wafted up to my unsuspecting nose. Beer.
How would a lake of beer suddenly spring up in front of my dryer, you ask? Was Milwaukee REALLY founded on beer? So much so that it springs up between our toes?
Next to our dryer is a strange little room with a locking door that the previous owner had built. It had a bunch of shelves and a bunch of dead flies in it when we moved in. I still don’t know what he used it for- but Brisket has converted it into his homebrew beer cellar.
I opened the door and a small foamy tidal wave washed over my feet. Brisket’s kegging system had sprung a leak at the very moment Brisket got on his airplane Monday afternoon and had been leaking since then.
Do you know that wonderful faint stale beer aroma that most bars, taverns, and frat houses have?
Welcome to my basement.