Water

I didn’t start with a crisis.

I started with a door.

It was one of those normal interior doors that used to close with a lazy click. Then it started needing a shoulder. Then it started scraping like it was mad at the floor.

And because I’m me, I did the classic sequence:

1. assume it’s humidity
2. ignore it for a week
3. stare at it in the morning like it’s a personal betrayal
4. finally look around for something else that changed

That’s when I noticed the hairline crack I’d been mentally filtering out.

I thought this would be a quick, boring fix. The kind where you schedule a thing, write a check, and never think about it again.

It started with a smell.

Not sewage. Not “call someone now.” More like wet cardboard and cold concrete and the annoying little question: is the dehumidifier full or is the basement just… like this now.

Then I walked outside after a normal rain and stepped into the back corner and my shoe did that suction-cup sound. You know the one. The dog thought it was great. I did not.

I didn’t want to learn what a “water service line” is.

I wanted to take a shower and not think about it.

But once you start seeing any of these, your brain does the thing where it won’t shut up:

• a wet stripe in the yard that never really dries (even when it hasn’t rained)
• a water bill that suddenly decided it’s a luxury brand
• pressure that’s fine… then not fine… then fine again
• a letter from the utility that includes the word lead and you can’t unsee it

Then you google the phrase everybody googles: