I don’t know what it is with us and water. It seems anywhere we live, water follows. Then I find myself up shits creek without a paddle.
We have had our current house flood 3 times. Why? Because We suck at life.
I’m talking the water came in to the stairs flood. I’m talking shoes floating past you flood. The carpet splashes when you walk flood and the kids think that’s fun as hell. Only it’s really not.
We do not have a basement, but a tri level type of lower level and it’s finished. Why would a known to flood level be finished? Well you know we’re stoopid, okay. Hollow sounds knock on the head stoopid. To say we are traumatized is the understatement of the freaking year.
In our lower level we have a walkout to a patio which is lovely but has also become a complete nightmare when it rains.
It was a dark and stormy night, literally. Raining heavy and steady. Not torrential downpour but close to it. Fear of imminent flooding upon us.
I pressed my forehead against the cold door wall to get a better look into the dark. My heart sank. My forehead squeaked down the glass as I slumped further into self pity.
The water was up to the exterior door sill. We had maybe an inch until it started flooding the house. The patio was already 6 inches deep. Yep, we’re screwed.
It’s time for the rain boots we decide looking out into it. We have to make sure the drain isn’t clogged and start manually bailing water, which is the most exercise my mom bod sees these days. Maybe it should rain more often.
The husband volunteers to put the easiest kid to bed, then go out as I put the other 2 to bed. Looks like my muffin top gets to avoid the work out.
Once upstairs I peek out the window.
During flashes of lightning I can see him. It’s like watching “Fun with Dick and Jane” except he’s not cutting out chunks of lawn. He’s frantically bailing away, dreanched, and looks like a deranged lunatic.
He is however determined and completely ready for anything mother nature throws at him.
He’s just as prepared as you’d expect any man to be. All decked out in boxers and a t-shirt, seemingly barefoot and helplessly bailing away. I can’t help but laugh as this time it’s not me out there. I’m all wrapped up warm in my robe peeking out the curtains.
All the kids are asleep now, I come downstairs where I’m greeted by my husband. He’s winded, sopping wet with water dripping down his face. He’s been at it for an hour, he didn’t make a dent, and we are loosing.
“I give up”. He tells me defeated. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen.”
We go to bed. I’m reeling at the thought of another flood. He’s beat and snoring away.
We have carpet so when we flood there is this annoying process of ripping up one side of the carpet to create an “air pocket” for the air movers. Drying carpet smells like hell but my kids love it, not the stank but the air pocket. They think it’s a riot jumping on the blown up carpet. An impromptu trampoline post flood, because kids are kids.
Why me? The hamster in my mind is exhausted and getting no where.
Morning comes and by the grace of God it did not enter the house this time. Husband is pleased but also baffled.
“It stopped raining in the night but the patio is still flooded. The ground is dry, I don’t understand.”
Sometime later he decides he needs to investigate further. This time he actually goes outside…
“You’re never going to believe this.”
“I went outside to see why the patio wasn’t draining and I noticed there was water spilling out of the top of the hot tub. Then I remembered I turned on the hose to top it off after the kids were in it.”
“Oh. My. God.” I say scooping my jaw off the floor, teeth slamming together. My face contorts into an ugly face of horror.
“I couldn’t get ahead bailing because the hose was on full blast. I almost flooded the house.” He’s laughing now at the trainwreck of our lives.
“Do you believe I did that to myself??”
“Yes, yes actually I do.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I think I said it.”
There are no words!