It was Monday night. The car had broken down that afternoon — it was a whole ordeal — and I’d finally lain down in bed. Matt burst into our bedroom and said, “We’ve got water coming into the house!” I got up and headed to the basement. Sure enough, the bathroom floor was soaked, as was the carpet in the bar and the laundry room floor. We looked at the damage, mentally tallying up the cost to fix it. A few days later, I told my father.