You knew I would have to blog about the flood of the century. Too much good stuff floating around to not comment on it. Please know I am not making light of the suffering of others but just of the inconvenience of yours truly. For those of you reading this who did sustain much damage, I am truly sorry.
My day started off with a text from a friend who was going to come up for a visit. She said she had been up all night bailing water out of her basement and would not be coming up. After reading that, I figured there was no sense in getting up before the crack of 9am, so I snuggled back into the comfort of my lazy arse bed revelling in the fact that my basement never leaks. As I was smugly happy, a small little thought began to grow….what if the basement did have a leak? Remember that time you thought that the dog had peed in your craft room (aka “crap” room)? That was a lot of pee for such a small dog….hmmm. So I rolled out of bed (not easily done when the air seeps out of our old Select Comfort air-filled mattress and makes a huge crater into which I sink) and went down to the basement under the pretense of doing laundry. Sure enough….there is a big puddle in my craft room, a big puddle in hubby’s room and a big puddle in the laundry room. So I call up to said husband, and he comes down and assesses the situation. “Better move stuff upstairs”, is his opinion. Now I don’t know about you all, but it is all I can do in the morning to get out of bed and get myself a cup of coffee and then stagger to my lazy arse chair where I spend the next hour trying to wake up. Should a fire ever happen in that first hour, the first responders will have to carry me out in my lazy arse chair cause I ain’t moving. I have been married long enough to know that there are certain times my whining about moving before I’ve had my coffee isn’t in my best interest and this was one of them! So we moved everything that wasn’t too heavy (ok, in all fairness, hubby moved everything while I kinda just flitted here and there in a coffeeless fog) to the upper level. And the puddles turned into lakes and the lakes became one. By noon the whole basement had an inch of water in it. We had attempted at first to shop vac the puddles but soon figured out it was like using a teaspoon to scoop water out of a pool so we gave up (I love using the word “we”, when really it is mostly just hubby) and made our way upstairs for coffee. It is hard to enjoy your coffee when water is rising in your basement and you have no idea how deep it is going to get or how in the heck you are going to get it out of there. We do not have any floor drains or a sump pump as our basement “never” leaks so how do you get hundreds of gallons of water out? I saw that someone on Facebook had said that their husband would take his septic truck and come pump you out so I told hubby to call them. First mistake….”telling” hubby to do something….I had forgotten the first rule of wifery…..”suggest” instead of “tell”. Second mistake…..I told hubby wrong septic company. (Important side note here: septic company mentioned in FB is my mom’s “significant other”s son-in-law’s…..remember that as there will be a quiz at the end). Hubby calls wrong company and guy tells him that maybe they can come by tomorrow afternoon. So water will be in basement for at least 24 more hours. Oh joy. Husband sees silver lining in all of this….at least floor will be clean ( is that a housekeeping crack, I wonder?)
Now the next big decision is do I try to get to work that night as my job is right by the Mall and by all reports it is a “no drive zone”? If it wasn’t that someone has to be with my client at night, I would have enjoyed another day off but I had to try to get there eventho hubby was against it. Not that he was staying home…oh no. He and daughter and her family, all piled in son-in-law’s big truck and drove around for hours while Nervous Nelly here worried that they had fallen into a big sinkhole or had been swept away by a raging current. Finally I can stand it no longer and I call hubby’s cell phone. No answer. So I text. No answer. So I call daughter’s cell. No answer. Text daughter. No answer. Now I am beginning to panic. My whole entire family is in that truck and I can’t get ahold of anyone. By now my imagination is running as rampant as the Cloquet River and I am trying to figure out what I will wear to the funeral service and will I have them all cremated and put in one urn or will I have hubby separate and what will I do with daughter’s home, etc. I kid you not….I have a very good imagination. I finally get ahold of son-in-law and he says they will be back soon. Now I am royally ticked off. All this time they have been joy-riding while I’ve been planning funerals. By the time they get back to my house, I am seething. I am so upset, I have to leave the house early and start my quest to Duluth. I run into my first obstacle a little more than a mile from my house. Water is rushing over the highway from a flooded creek….do I dare cross it? (Important side note here: I can’t swim..and I have had nightmares for years about this exact situation and it never ends well for me.) So I wait until someone else comes by to see if they cross it. Car comes. Car stops. Car turns around. Car leaves. Well, that wasn’t helpful. Big SUV comes up behind me and roars around me and plunges right thru water and makes it to the other side. Ok…but it was twice as tall as my car. Here comes two big dump trucks….right thru the water. I roll down my window and frantically flag the first truck down. “Do you think I can make it through?”, I ask. He tells me if I go slow enough and stay in the middle of the road I should be alright. My mind races….what is “slow enough”? What will happen if I go too fast? What if my car dies in the middle? I felt a tad bit better since there were guard rails on both sides in the deepest part of the road so I wouldn’t be swept down stream (I watch all those shows like “1000 Ways To Die” so I have seen dummies try to cross these things). I mustered up all my courage, put my car in gear, stepped on the gas, held my breath and went. I was scared to death. Driving across that water, slowly, was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I swear by the time I got across it, I was exhausted. I was shaky and light-headed (probably from holding my breath, duh) and I knew the only thing that would help would be a chocolate malt from DQ! There I sat, in the parking lot of the new Super One store in Pike Lake, drinking not only my delicious chocolate malt but drinking in the feeling of having cheated death. I faced my worst nightmare and was victorious. (Ok, it probably wasn’t all that dangerous but this is my story and I’m stickin’ to it!)
TO BE CONTINUED……..