Water-boarding, Becher style

Because my children apparently have no long-term memory or survival instincts, they decided to thoroughly trounce the whole 'evening of calm' I had planned. I was aware, first, of the noise... rivulets of water dropping from a great height onto wood, then then sound of water splattering onto the rug under the table. The next clue that something was horribly amiss was the panic in the hushed voices of the Becher offspring, when the realization that a measly two bath towels was not going to make this go away...

water literally pouring from the woodwork. The opening between our kitchen and dining room is nine feet wide, and every inch of it was dripping.

The baskets took quite a beating, but they needed dusting anyway. Whether that could have been accomplished without a rainy-day toilet parade is anyone's guess, but I'm going to assume there are indeed better ways. I'm also going to assume that serving bread in these baskets would be a health risk.

So, what started as a quiet evening with intent to knit and start croissant dough has, instead, become a bleach-bathing fiasco in the middle of my house. The 'kitchen' side of the opening is barely dripping now, and proper precautions have been implemented so that the gathering at the shop Saturday won't be adversely affected by lack of chocolate croissants and rhubarb pie. I know now that my children are trying to kill me, and that the machinations of indoor plumbing are beyond their capabilities. All I can do now is confiscate the DS game, contemplate nailing the bathroom door shut, and try to keep everyone alive until their father gets home.
Obvioulsy, I have no ego left, or I would not have shared my little nightmare. I'm just keeping it real... and, for now, real is drippy, soggy, and in need of more bleach.