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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Funny that Ol’ Robbo was writing about lightning strikes just below because we got yet another dandy of a deluge at Port Swiller Manor last evening, complete with plenty of rattle and boom. (What a lot of rain we’ve had here this summah!)

As a result, the basement flooded for the second time in about a week. Since the grass was too wet to cut this morning, Ol’ Robbo said to himself, “Self, it’s time to get to the bottom of all this.” So I went on down to the basement, dragged everything out of the way, and took out the drywall and insulation on the side from which all the water gets in.

Once I punched that first hole with the hammer claw, I felt a distinct sense of crossing the Rubicon. No point in stopping then until it was all done. (Funny, back in my yoot I loved doing teardown. Now, I view it as nothing but a pain in the neck.)

Well, between the drywall dust and the insulation fibers, I’ve probably now given myself a case of mesothelioma, but at least I know what the issue is. Sure enough, there are several hairline cracks in the cinderblock seams, with tell-tale Virginia clay and water-stain trails dribbling down from them.

I dunno whether the job was botched in the first instance or if this is just anno Domine, but obviously the whole thing needs to be resealed. Part of me wants to dash out and pick up some of Phil Swift’s Flex-Seal (I could make a rubber boat while I was about it), but I think I’m going to have a pro come in and look things over instead, as there might be something else that needs doing, too. Also, the location of the cracks suggests a little landscaping project I’ve had in mind to divert rainwater away from that corner of the house probably should move up my list of priorities

Heigh ho.

But as I say, at least I now know what’s what.


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August 2022