Interior Drain Tile System for the Basement

Water, water, everywhere--

Well, we had several contractors come out to look at my mom's basement to see what might be going on. According to our tenants, water has been coming in at a steady rate since last week. They've been nice enough to keep sweeping it towards the sump pump pit, but I know it's a huge hassle for them and not something they wanted to tackle right after moving in. To complicate things, one of the two sump pumps--located at either end of the basement--just burned out.

The general consensus is that with the record rains we've had the last few years, the water table in the area has risen. There has been an increase in the number of basements taking on water The neighbors on either side of mom's house are currently dry, but her house does sit a little lower.

The seepage is coming from the cove joints, where wall and floor meet, as well as from a few cracks in the floor slab, common symptoms of hydrostatic pressure. Basically, the water table is trying to equalize itself from the exterior walls to the inside of the basement. We need an interior footing drain tile system. This will relieve the pressure, and channel the water to a sump pit.

What that means is that they will have to crack the concrete all around the interior perimeter and install a perforated drain in a bed of washed gravel, leading to the sump pump. This will get covered back up with concrete. I found a few pictures online of what this looks like:

Estimates range from $4400-$10,000. Yeah. Ouch. One guy was immediately eliminated from our short list because he was awfully patronizing, actually holding his finger up in mom's face and hushing her so he could go on with his long-winded explanation. You simply don't hush Mom if she has a question and expect to get her business.

I think we're going with a contractor in the $5500 range; we need to verify a few things yet, but it looks like his price includes building a whole new sump pit. Ours looks in rather sad shape; it's metal and 30+ years old. They'll patch a few minor cracks on the walls as well. The estimator is going to check with his boss, but may be able to include putting a concrete slab in our crawlspace as well for the same price. We'll see. (The crawlspace is currently gravel, and never gets used. Having it available for additional storage might be nice.) Their lifetime guarantee actually is for the lifetime of the house (others guaranteed the work for 10 years) and is transferable to subsequent owners. Best of all, they can schedule it this week and get it done in a day because they have a large crew. Other estimates said it would take 2-3 days and we'd have to wait 2-3 weeks.

So, while a nasty unexpected expense, we're looking at a guaranteed dry basement as a good selling point in the future, adding value to the house.

So, now we have to tell our tenants, who just set up a jumbo aquarium in the unfinished basement, that they'll have to move it so work can get done.

Update: The contractor who was already our number one pick ended up giving us a new bid of $5000, which does include laying a slab in the crawlspace. Times are tough out there, I guess, and he knew we had other contractors making bids. It's definitely a good idea to comparison shop; even the well-rated guys (per Angie's List) are willing to make deals now. They're coming in Monday at 7:30 and should be done by 5:00. Can't beat that.

Well, $#&*#$. We don't need problems with the foundation.

Today was supposed to be a happy day.

Mom's tenants moved into her other house this weekend, and Ted and I were over there this evening to pick up the last of our possessions: a desk, a dollhouse, and an old file cabinet. After more than a year of moving stuff (we had rented out our condo, moved to Mom's, put some of our stuff in storage, closed on The Box House, moved our stuff from storage to Evanston, and moved Mom's stuff here) we were done. Now we had tenants for both the extra properties, and could wait out the housing crisis and bad economy until we could sell them.

We were actually in high spirits as we drove to the Western suburbs, knowing that we wouldn't have to make the trek out there as frequently. I was even okay this time having to ring the doorbell to be let in.

And then I made the mistake of asking how things were going, and if they were all settled in.

They were settling in nicely, they assured us, but wanted to let us know that there was water in the basement.

What???

The only time there was ever water in the basement was when the sump pump failed, and we didn't have a battery back up. The sump was working now--our handy man we sometimes use when we can't get out to the house had even checked it a few days before--but there was a small amount of water pooled in the middle of the basement and along all the edges. We could actually see it seeping in on the western edge, where wall met floor. My mouth literally dropped open, I was so surprised.

Seriously, what the heck?

The best we can figure, since the sump was working, is that the rapid freeze and thaw of last week, in which the temperature went up forty degrees and then back down within 12 hours, had somehow shifted or nudged or did some damage to the slab.

In more than 30 years of occupying the house, we had never had water seepage. What are the odds it happens on the weekend we get new tenants?

I broke the news to Mom as gently as I could, but it's a bitter pill to swallow. And checking the insurance policy yielded little hope. It doesn't look like they cover this type of damage, or, as clause 12 puts it, movement, settling, cracking, bulging, shrinking, heaving, or expanding, whether natural or otherwise. And clause 36 says they do not cover loss from extremes of temperature, including freezing.

It is speculation on our part regarding what exactly is happening in the basement, and we won't know more until we can call the insurance company and a few contractors to come out and look at it. But gee whiz, this sucks.

Nature Abhors a Vacuum--Or An Empty Basement

This is the largest of the basement rooms. There are 10 in all, or nine if you don't count the little room under the stairs, although it is big enough to stand up in. At least if you're five foot almost two inches tall like me. Or maybe there's only eight rooms, if you don't count the toilet closet. I try not to think about that room; it's a very scary toilet room. In any case, I took this photo during the inspection. That elbow belongs to our agent, Joel, who is peering into mechanical room #1.

This is the same room today. We have a lot of crap. Every room in the basement looks like this. (And if the post office asks why we we're using their boxes to store our books, of course they were left over from our former eBay book business.)

I swear, all I've been doing for the last few days is cart boxes from one end of the basement to the other, arrange them in new and interesting patterns, and try to enforce some semblance of order on the whole mess. It's not easy. But I don't think I'll be able to tackle any serious projects on The Box House until I can at least point out, with no uncertainty, my bank statements and tax documents, my work-related books, my box of current reading and other obsessions and hobbies, and the box with Harley's ashes. (Mom's black lab died last summer, and, like our cat Pascal, we wanted to bring him with us to bury here.) So far, I'm O for four. But hopefully by the weekend I'll have a better grasp of everything.

Yeah, right.