Friday the 13th is good luck—unless you have triskaidekaphobia. Fortunately, I don't have it.
In the morning, I get a visit from the cabinet designer, who came to check a measurement. He sees what happened and asks about the joists. He knows a little, he says. And so he goes to the basement, pushes aside the fiberglass drop ceiling panel, and touches the joist just under where the refrigerator was. It's dry. There's a large cra
ck and a little bit of white powder that could be some mold, but it's minor, and the joist is in great shape. He scratches it with a knife and is pretty confident.
The Landers guy comes back with my parts. He fixes the fridge and takes lots of pictures. He holds up the cracked pan while I take pictures.
I have a phone meeting and drive to work for an in-person meeting. All is fine, and I was worried for nothing.
On the drive home, I talk to the flooring people to see if they can repair the floor; they can. I get a text from someone who's coming to inspect my joists. Those guys are there when I get home, and they take a bunch of pictures and give it two thumbs up. No structural damage.
They leave, and I get a call from Lowe's. It's the claims adjustor calling to tell me she's going to cut me a check. She'll take a word-of-mouth estimate and a copy of the receipt. She'll mail the check on Tuesday. What?!
I take the family out to Clementine to celebrate. We take a quick jaunt to Home Depot to pick up paint ($289!). We come home and watch Mozart in the Jungle.