Remember that old Woody Allen quip, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans”? We’re living that at Chez mimi right now. Here we are, all excited about the new year, ready to remake our entire financial and creative selves, when we realize that there’s water on the floor of our den. Not much water, but enough. We can’t find the source. The sinks aren’t leaking. The cabinets are dry. It’s not raining. As Florida residents, we know what that means…the two most dreaded words in home ownership: slab leak.

Out comes a plumber to check. Sure enough, it’s a slab leak, probably underneath the den floor. But where under the floor? Right at the door where we get the puddle? Closer to the kitchen? By the fireplace? Anywhere we finally find it, we’re screwed because a slab leak means ripping up the floor. A slab leak in our case, when you remember that we already had a leak between the meter and the house this year, means the five most dreaded words in home ownership: time to repipe the house.

Five weeks’ worth of scampering in and out of the house to turn the water off and Laura Ingalls Wilder-ing as we brush our teeth (We have a pitcher and a basin! How quaint!), the nice plumbers are here. It sounds like giant mutant squirrels have taken over our attic and they’re dragging in moose-sized kill. We’ve cleared out every sink cabinet in the house. Soon the drywall will be Swiss cheese. Two days of this, mind you, and then we have to cough up a check for $3200 (which explains the five weeks’ worth of scampering in and out).

This hurts. But at least this weekend I’ll be able to take a full-powered HOT shower and get ice out of the fridge. Deep yoga breaths…