As the Missus and I were lounging by the water on Sunday morning, unbeknownst to us her hard-headed father was ankle deep in it. Apparently at some point after 8:00 pm on Saturday night (when he got out of the shower) and 5:30 am on Sunday morning (when he tried to brush his teeth) the main pipe that brings the water from the street into our house broke.
Joe - for reasons known only to him - opted to keep his Sunday matinee performance of "Old Man vs the Sea" to himself. When I arrived home at about 2:30 in the afternoon, I found him wringing water out of a towel and into a garbage pail - in his fifth hour of knocking his brains out. When I asked him why he never called Margaret to let her know what had happened. I am still waiting for the answer.
With invaluable assistance from Ryan and Suzanne - including but not limited to the use of their Wet-Vac by the time Margaret and I went to bed last night we had restored the basement to its pre-aquarium condition. And Joe? Last night he slept like a baby.
Hopefully when he tried to brush his teeth this morning, the experience was decidedly routine.