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A wet welcome

Before leaving on vacation we made sure to change the beds, vacuum, clean the kitchen, do the laundry... all the chores that we didn't want to have staring us in the face the day we returned from up north.  Flood1.jpgThe plan, then, was to ease back into real life somewhat slowly, but that plan did not include stepping into a huge puddle of water at the foot of our basement stairs first thing in the morning the day after our return.  It didn't take long to realize that the water was not just at the bottom of the stairs but had puddled in several areas throughout the basement.  We moved things to dry spots and a few phone calls later we decided that sump pump failure was to blame and within the half hour the plumber was on his way.  Not long after, as we were breathing an unfortunately premature sigh of relief, we spoke on the phone with the water restoration specialists and watched a rather threatening bank of clouds coming in from the west.  As soon as the storm hit we knew we were in trouble.  flood2.jpgThe previously inert puddles in our basement were now advancing with determined and visible speed across the floor, aiming directly for all our possessions.  While Calvin took his morning nap we started hauling everything upstairs - boxing movies and books from bookshelves and putting them in the garage, then lugging each shelf up, all of the Christmas items, all of the outgrown baby clothes, the wrapping supplies, the stored toys and winter clothes, the childhood memories we'd never been able to part with, the computers, the office equipment, more shelves.  The plumber came and replaced the pump, Jon's mom came and occupied Calvin (both jobs being vital to the saving of our stuff) and we just kept running down the stairs and trudging back up, arms loaded with our personal items.  By mid afternoon the carpet in the office was soaked through, the floor throughout the basement under an inch of water, but all of our stuff was safely piled in the garage, around our bed, in the kitchen, and in the hallway.  Our basement may have been upstairs, but it was safe.

Things could definitely have been a lot worse.  The plumber said our pump was old and likely hadn't been working correctly for several weeks, but it had been such a dry summer that we hadn't noticed.  If the torrential rains that came down the night we returned home had hit just a day earlier we would have been out of luck.  If Jon hadn't gone to the basement to feed the cats first thing in the morning we might not have noticed the puddles before they advanced and took over the basement and we might not have rescued our beloved things.  Yes, our basement might be in our upstairs, the noise of industrial fans enveloping our whole house, and our muscles and minds aching with fatigue, but we can't help but be thankful for the way things turned out.

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