two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen, infinite insanity

When I was around, oh, 11 years old I guess, my family took a trip to Niagara Falls. I will never, ever forget what my dad uttered the moment we all laid eyes on the star attraction of that famous tourist and honeymooners’ town:

“Holy SHIT, a lotta water!”

Pardon his French, but he was playing to an audience of two adolescent boys, and he thought we’d find it absolutely hilarious. We did, of course, which is why I still recall it as if it were yesterday. We laughed and laughed.

Why am I telling you this today? Because last night — and again today — I had occasion to utter those same words myself, upon seeing our kitchen floor, and much of the rest of our house, flooded by a malfunctioning washing machine.

We’re not laughing tonight.

There seems to be no real damage to any belongings besides the house itself, which can be handled, and Violet is still the cutest thing in the universe, so I suppose we’ll survive. “Water remediation devices” (fans on steroids) have been deployed, homeowner’s insurance provider contacted, washing machine repairman who said it was fixed after the first flood tarred-and-feathered. Life marches on, albeit with soggy feet.

We really, really hope you and yours have had a more pleasant past 24 hours, though.

folks before you had this to say:

  1. regina

    typing with baby in arm…short message. grannie told me about the insanity…let me know how everythings turning out

  2. dsj

    as relatively new homeowners, we, too, have felt the fiancial undertow of watery misfortunes. sadly, our malfunction was a pipe blockage, causing anything that was sent down the kitchen sink — and FLUSHED DOWN THE TOILET — to overflow into our basement. Adding insult to injury, on the same night we discovered the brown flood in the basement (which meant no more use of running or flushing water until the morning when the plumber called), i was stricken with a stomach bug that normally would have required several lengthy visits to the bathroom. I shall not share the alternative measures that were required.

  3. Rob

    Thanks, gentlemen… Brent, that story made my day.

  4. Brent

    I used to live on the Blanco River… (Guess where this is going?) One night, I came home early from work to find the river had risen 30 feet and was knocking on my backdoor.

    I ran inside the house, grabbed my dog, my cat, and guitar (in that order) and made for higher ground.
    As I was driving away I noticed my neighbor Bob’s truck still parked in front of his trailer. “Poop!” (Not really what I said, as this is a family site, right?) I drove over to his place and knocked on the door. No answer. I opened his door and found Bob asleep (he was passed out, family site and all) on his couch.
    “Bob! Get up man! We gotta get outta here. The river is here!”

    “Huh? Wha? Oh, poop!”
    He stumbled around, grabbed his two dogs and his two guitars and headed for his truck.
    We both peeled out of the soggy driveway and headed for higher ground.

    At the fork in the road, for some reason, he went left and I went right.

    I made it to Austin and spent the next week or so with friends.
    The next day we drove down to the river to see what we could see. On the way to the house we pulled around a bend and found Bob’s truck stalled on the side of the road. It was covered in mud, debris hanging from the review mirror and his briefcase still in the front seat. No Bob.

    We grabbed his briefcase and found a phone number to Bob’s son in Austin.
    “Hi, this is Brent Dudley, Bob’s neighbor is San Marcos. Have you seen him?”
    “Yup. We picked him up the night of the flood.”
    “Really? What happened?”
    “He drove into a low-water crossing, stalled, and before he knew it the water was to his door handle. He rolled down the window, grabbed both dogs, his two guitars and swam for shore. Did you see his truck?”

    “Yes we did. We were really worried that Bob…”
    “No, he’s good. He’s sitting here drinking a beer now.”
    Anyway, that’s my flood story. We finally made it to the house. It was full of dead fish and crawdads. The floor had a three inch layer of mud on it and most of my stuff (didn’t have much in those days, thankfully!) was shot.

    We gathered a few pictures and some beer out of the fridge and left. Pulling out of the driveway I turned right.

    Hang in the Lifford family. Things will get better. Promise!

  5. Luscious Santa

    Water damage, and the subsequent insurance settlement, was "misfortune" that allowed me to redesign my apt. Sometimes, when God pelts you with peas, you have to make pea soup…or get new granite countertops and a pedestal sink for your bathroom.

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