July 25, 2011
Insert Ark Joke Here, Part I of II
Jeebus H. Wind-surfing Christ, I'm talking about weather for the second blog in a row here. I might as well just put on some overalls, stick a sprig of hay in my mouth and go sit on the front porch. I'm fighting the urge to whittle something as I talk about...
The Big Rain!
I hate myself so much right now. But that's not going to stop me from trying to produce a blog for you, my beloved readers.
So. I don't know when the thunderstorm started because I had my earplugs in. But when the power went off at 2:00 a.m., Husband and I were both immediately and simultaneously awake, like two migrant workers in a coffee bean field. Years of conditioning have taught us that No Power = BAD BAD BAD THINGS HAPPENING.
By 2:15, Husband had the generator hooked up to the sump pump, which, alas, could not keep up with the amount of rain falling... directly into our basement. We stood there watching the waterfull pour into our laundry room. And I don't mean some rivulets were cascading down the wall. I mean there was PROJECTILE FLOODING coming from our window well and shooting into the middle of the room! Seriously, we just stood there. What else could we do?!
Okay, there was one thing we could do. We triaged the basement, in anticipation of the rain never, ever stopping. We moved couches and carried tables. We rolled rugs and put smaller furniture on top of larger furniture.
Long story short -- we didn't lose one Barbie! All that got soaked was a crappy rug from IKEA that we didn't really need anyway. There was much sopping and mopping to do, but all in all, we were very lucky.
My parents, on the other hand, were not so lucky. After deciding at 3:00 a.m. that I probably shouldn't call them, I waited until 8:30 and called them then.
To my inquiries about their basement, my mom replied, "Oh, I don't know. I haven't even looked in the basement."
They live, by the way, four blocks away from us. On the same flood plain we live on! One summer, when I was in high school, the neighborhood we all now live in was accessible only by canoe. Saint Peter at the Gate, why the hell do we live here?!
Rhetorical dramatics aside, since Husband and I were otherwise occupied re-enacting a scene from Last of the Mohicans,...
Stay alive, no matter what occurs... I will find you!
I called Billi and asked her to check on Mom and Dad. Dad said that they would just "wait for the water to go down" and didn't need help. Luckily, we have learned from experience to ignore what he says. And Mom was more than a little happy that Billi and Brad showed up with a new generator and tons of cleaning supplies.
Know what will make an antique Oriental rug float? Eight inches of water!