Crimes of Fashion
It was 19:00 PST when I arrived on the scene. At a glance, I knew I was too late. The stain was spreading across the concrete, mixing with loose change and flecks of lint. I didn't need to call for backup. I didn't even need a forensic team. The cause of the stain was obvious: an overloaded washing machine.
Suspects were slim. [Insert gausy flashback lens and harp scales.]
Gabriel and I had been playing Harry Potter in his room when I had realized his clothes hamper was full. He was Harry Potter; I, Sirius Black. As he cast the Patronus charm, warding off Dementors, I lugged the full hamper to the garage. Harry helped me load, but quickly got distracted by more Bad Guys, heading back into the house. I finished loading the washer, added the All Free & Clear detergent (the only thing that doesn't make Hannah break out), pressed the buttons for an extra spin, and started the machine.
[Reverse gausy flashback. Focus back on Dad in garage, present time]
Gulp! I was the culprit. Still, I wondered why the machine was bubbling suds from the overfill hose and leaking across the garage floor like a movie bloodstain (albiet soapy & clear).
"Janette, can you come here a sec?"
Janette reluctantly abandoned her book. Judging by the fifteen or so pages to go toward the end, I imagined she wasn't thrilled with the interruption, but I showed her the sudsy tube coming out of the wall.
"Can we call someone on this? Doesn't seem like it should be happening."
Janette wears the tool belt in this family. She pushed at the wall, looking for give - something that might indicate bigger problems. Wordlessly, she retreated to the house.
"Seems kind of bad - we should call someone. Snake it or something. Maybe talk to my dad about looking at it." I chased her back in. She returned to her reading. "You know, we don't want dry rot or anything in the wall."
Janette peeked up from her book. "There's nothing I can do about it right now." Her eyes glided back down.
"Dry rot," I mentioned again. She bobbed up from the book and back down. "Dry rot?" I teased.
"What would you like me to do about it?" she asked.
"Um, obsess with me?" I grinned.
She returned to her book.
Well, Janette was right. The case wasn't going to be solved tonight. Now I was just teasing. Still: dry rot would be bad, right?
-- Dad
