I haven't had the easiest life. My eyesight isn't what it used to be. High blood pressure, skipping heartbeat...etc. But I always had my books. Nicholas Basbanes once called the love of books A Gentle Madness. In his book Patience and Fortitude he talks about books ruined by water IIRC. Thus my story begins. Water and I don't get along, you see. Water always seems to know where my favorite books are. A long time ago, my Dad once bought me a book on galaxies at a yard sale. I had it propped against the wall up by the bed. Just under a window with an air conditioner. It rained one night, the water found a way in--and soaked the book. I've never heard of a water leak forming directly over a trash can, have you? After my parents died, I moved to a townhome. Workmen put my simple refrigerator in place of one that had a water and ice maker. After finding a floor full of water, I moved my refridge, to notice that the water hose that went to the previous tenant's reefer was simply tied in a knot. The poor dear had an aneurysm. That was leak number two. Oh, and...by the way---my refer' crapped out about a year ago. No replacement. But I endured. Leak number three came when a water hose from my washer also suffered a case of atherosclerosis, and dutifully spilled its contents. The following winter, I cut the water off above the replacement hose, so as to not have the problem again. The washer never did anything but buzz when everything was turned back on. But, I coped. The fourth leak was the worst...for a long time that is. The one day of the year I was a hundred miles from home, the water heater went. The trip was to my Aunt's house. (Sister to my late mother). The only part of the conversation I had with her that I remember, was of her asking me how things were going: "Annie, everything would be all right if things would just quit tearing up." Some Bastard up there heard me....of that I'm convinced. I had put some print outs on the kitchen floor, temporarily, before I went on the trip. Soaked. My Aunt? Yeah--she's dead too, now. But the toilets are the worst. The bottom floor toilet gave me fits, and ass-crack plumber never could get it sealed. But what happened to me this past Monday was pure disaster. I worked all night Sunday. I took two sleeping pills and headed for bed around Nine Monday morning. Around 1:30 PM (same day) I awoke to the sound of water gushing. "Is that rain, I said to myself?" Of course not. The hose to the upstairs toilet went. The two upper bedrooms have carpeting soaked, and a slow motion collapse of the sheet rock ceiling of the first floor began, and water started ruining my many, precious books...panels landing on my little toy ships---crushing them. I'm in credit card hell, all but maxed out after health scares and a woman two doors down who left--but whose debt remains with me. I live in a swamp now, hot and humid. Water got into the central heat/AC that I didn't use much, due to freon leaks. Something similar happened to poor Henry Petroski, who came home to a house full of water. Ironically, he is an engineer specializing in failure analysis. I know that because a magazine called AMERICAN SCIENTIST (Sigma Xi of which he is a Member) had an article of his in it: https://www.americanscientist.org/magazine/issues/2019/may-june At least that didn't get wet. It was in my car.