Washing machine. (Twice.) Dishwasher. Hot water heater. Leaky sink. Various plumbing problems. The only non-water problem was when the oven went haywire.
When I was much younger, Mom told me that we must have an undine living with us, because of all the water problems we had. There was always endless trouble with the basement flooding, every time there was significant rain; with some of the improvements made to the place over the years that problem has been mitigated to a significant extent, though we do still have issues once in a while.
The most recent issue is the bathtub. It clogged up solid last night, so bad that I was working on it until past 2 AM trying to get it unplugged. I think I used about a quarter can of Drano, too. I finally gave up and determined just to call off today so I could go to the hardware store and get a snake--I thought I had one, but I can't seem to find it--and went to bed, finally, after 2:30 AM, having mapped out a game plan for dealing with the clog. Exhausted (I'd been up since 7 AM Saturday morning), busted, and disgusted, I retired in defeat after diluting the Drano Death Water to normal ph, bailing the tub out into the toilet, cleaning off all the grease and grime that got plunged up from the drain, and making sure my wife could shower before work. I got as much water out of the tub as I could, but there was still water standing just below the lip of the drain.
Woke up at 7 long enough to call off and hit the can; I saw that there was still water in the drain, as I'd expected. I went back to sleep and got up again after my wife had finished her shower.
"Did you fix the tub?"
"No," I said, wondering why she was asking when there was standing water in the tub from her shower, of course, because when I left the thing there was still water standing in the drain. Right? She'd taken a shower and I hadn't gotten the drain unplugged, so she'd had to be standing ankle-deep in water at the end of her shower. "Why?"
"What?" I went into the bathroom and looked at the tub, and it was empty, no water in the drain or anything.
What the fuck.
I mean, what the fuck.
Mrs. Fungus: "Maybe there's a gnome in the pipe."
"There must be!" I grabbed a flashlight and went downstairs to look in the crawlspace--not for gnomes, but for evidence that the tub had drained into the crawlspace rather than the sewer. But it was dry, but for the usual crawlspace dampness, which was a considerable relief to me as I didn't fancy spending a day mucking about down there. I had expected to when I called off this morning--if the snake didn't work I was going to try going at it from the trap--but I didn't fancy tackling a major repair.
Before she left for work, as usual, Mrs. Fungus kissed me; then she said, "Try to do something productive today. Send out some resumes!"
I agreed to. Beats plumbing.