Last week while I was writing my guy came into my office to interrupt me, which meant either the house was on fire or a disaster had happened. The first words out of his mouth were, "Honey, we've got a disaster" so it didn't look like we were going to burn to death.
No, it was just half of our walk-in closet's shelves and racks spontaneously collapsed. All of them, all at the same time. My half, of course.
The folks who installed the shelves and racks did not bother to find the studs in the walls, which is why after 29 years and many pounds of clothes, bed linens and pillows the drywall screws just worked their way out.
My guy helped me move everything to the bed in our spare bedroom, which will serve as my temporary closet while he builds me new shelves and racks. It took an hour I didn't have to spare, but that's my luck.
Hey, at least the house didn't burn down, right? Good disaster.
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