Flooding

Apparently, my apartment flooded while I slept peaceably under the rumble of the thunder and rain. And I mean my entire apartment flooded.

I awoke to an icy splash as I stepped out of bed. I thought/hoped/believed it might be confined to my bedroom. To both bedrooms. I found standing water in both of my bedrooms, the hall, the bathroom, the living room and the kitchen. I slid on the slick tiled floors.

The hand-tied, 70-year-old Turkish rug, the one I bought in Selcuk, along the Aegean Sea near Ephesus? Sopping. As are the little red dots and red rug beside my bed, which is bleeding pink onto my black and white tiles.

The guitar that yesterday I wanted to pick up with the strains of Neil Young running through my mind, because I'm still in love with you on this harvest moon. The clothes I set out to pack. The suitcase. The bag of papers from when I cleaned off my desk in a moment of career indecision. Soaked.

The dehumidifier is running but that will fill in a matter of hours and I won't be back until Sunday. I could use the ShopVac - I own a ShopVac - but I'd rather crawl back into bed and pretend that it didn't happen or, at the very least, that I didn't know.

I need to pack for a weekend away. I need to get to work; I have a half day of meetings.

It's never been like this. Water? In my kitchen?


UPDATE 6:39 a.m. I did use the ShopVac, lifting about 10 gallons of brackish water from the Turkish rug and another five gallons of pink tinged suds from my bedroom floor. I really am going back to bed.

UPDATE 11:51 a.m. My apartment's a mess, with puddles of muddy water in most of the rooms and streaks of sediment and grime striping the tiled floor. Bubbly footprints from my pink rubber rain boots and multiple detergent spills show where I've slipped, almost falling dozens of times.

Trying to pack, in boots and skirt and sliding over the wet tiled floors, I blew a fuse in my bedroom. Everything I meant to take ended up in the bathtub where I meant to hang them up. Instead, they lie cold and clammy, seeping into each others' fibers.

I also need new drain plugs for my Jeep. I seem to have lost mine. There are holes in the floorboard to let water drain out. Unfortunately, in the case of severe flooding, they also let water in, an inch of standing water right now.

Nevertheless, I left it all behind for my half day of meetings, for my weekend out of town. I can't make it dry any faster.


Tag: Flooding