Last night I was in the kitchen getting dinner started. The husband was watching a movie and the littl’un, and the boy was messing around on the Lego website. I had just turned on the stove top burner and was heating up a little vegetable oil to pan fry some flank steak when I heard a noise. A very unusual noise. It sounded almost as if someone were pouring liquid somewhere.
“What’s that noise? What is THAT?” My sense of alarm grew even more as the noise that I was hearing wasn’t stopping– it was growing more pronounced. To my horror, I watched a crack appear at the top of the fish tank that resides–or should I now say, resided– on our bookshelf sofa table, while the water snaked its way down the side of the tank and began to cascade over the sides onto the books and carpets below.
(Incidentally, the cats were promptly swished off the table after this photo was taken. I don’t know why they thought they should be there. I’m guessing it’s because the fish tank was there. The cats are not–repeat after me– are NOT allowed on our table.)
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my family act so quickly or move more in concert with each other than we did in the next thirty minutes. We used every towel in the house, and we managed to rescue all but one book– Harry Potter # 3 is, alas, no more, but the four 120+ year old books that were living below the deep blue sea sustained no damage.
Of course, this was not helped by my ineptly picking the replacement water bucket up by the broken handle leading to an additional four gallons of water joining the five gallons that was already on the floor.
The in-laws, who were out and about, managed to duck into a pet store minutes before it closed, and they were able to hook us up with a suitable replacement tank. We were able to save a little of the fishes’ (yes, there are more than one type in the tank) water, and we didn’t rinse the filter or gravel, so crash starting a new tank seems to have worked out okay. They aren’t dead…yet.
The new tank is now in the dining room–nowhere near carpet, books, or the bookshelf. It’s not quite as nice a location for viewing the little fellas, but I kind of like my bookshelf, not to mention the books on it.
It was an eventful New Year’s Eve in the Spell home–not a dry one–but it all worked out in the end.