We had best laid plans for Sunday.
A few little painting projects and a cookout.
We weren’t sure Saturday if we’d cook out or not because we were due some rain.
Yeah. It rained.
Our Sunday plans changed drastically by 1:30 am.
I’ll just go ahead and give you the run down in half hour increments.
Midnight: I had fallen asleep ridiculously early Saturday night, so when I woke up to pee at midnight, I was up.
The promised thunderstorm was raining down on us. The thunder didn’t start and stop, it was just one long, rolling thunder.
We propped open a bedroom window with a book because Gertie enjoys standing on the window sill and looking for lizards. I thought the book was probably getting soaked, so I got up and closed the window. Then, I continued playing games on my phone.
**NOTE** It is not a revelation that our driveway floods. It has flooded numerous times. But it was super late and my brain did not feel it necessary to remind me of this, so I continued to not consider the possibility the driveway was flooding.
1:00 AM: Randy woke up and looked out the bedroom window. He asked if I could tell if the driveway was flooded. I still hadn’t thought to check.
Randy decided to get dressed and head outside to see if we were having an issue.
I had taken a double dose of xanax 20 minutes earlier in an attempt to get back to sleep and I was just getting to that warm, fuzzy ready-to-drowse-off feeling.
I asked Randy if he needed any help and he said no. That was definitely the right answer because I was ready to finally go back to sleep.
1:30 AM: I’m not sure if I had been asleep for 5 minutes or 25 minutes.
I just know I was woken up by Randy yelling up from the basement.
He sounded a little panicked. Mind you, any level of panic from Randy is cause for alarm.
My brain tried, for just a moment, to pretend nothing bad was happening and was ready to go back to sleep. But then Randy said something else and honestly, I hadn’t heard anything he said. I just heard panic.
I got out of bed and put on jeans and shoes. I have some amazing rainboots, but left them outside and, as hard as it was raining, I was pretty sure the boots were full of water. I put on my trusty Chucks. I hope they’re not ruined.
Randy was in the garage and the water was over his ankles. There was more to that story, but I was still assessing damage. The outside basement room where the washer and dryer were a good inch under water.
The middle basement room has a big drain in the middle of the room, but it was still pretty flooded.
Super funny side note. We’ve had boxes at my mother’s house since we moved in here a year ago this month. Joey just went a few days ago and brought them home. He put them in the basement. Mostly cardboard boxes.
Anyway, I went out to the garage with Randy, he was trying to guide water to the driveway drain while preventing debris from blocking the drain.
The flood of water in the garage overturned a box filled with packing peanuts.
I would love to say what followed is funny, but no. No it is not funny. Mostly. I mean, it’s a little funny, but not at the fucking time. Holy shit. Not then.
When Randy went out the front door and looked down into the driveway, he couldn’t tell if there was any water backed up or not. He couldn’t see. He decided to go down to the garage, turn on the light on and open the garage door.
The amount of water that rushed in from the driveway actually moved the lawnmower from the front of the garage, to halfway in.
Between a push broom and taking turn holding the drain open while running interference against the seemingly infinite number of packing peanuts, we were able to drain the garage of most water.
2:00 AM: We had to start moving shit around in the basement. There are two large rooms and one very small room. We didn’t even consider the small room until the next morning. The only casualty there was rolls and roll of Christmas wrapping paper. It’s mush now.
The outer room’s drain just wasn’t doing it’s job. The water was around our ankles.
This room is also where the kitty’s litter boxes are. I took a litter box up to the living room and made sure both cats knew the location. They were not amused.
Joey told he was going to a friend’s after work and wouldn’t be home until the morning. We were in the basement when I heard the distinct sound of footsteps overhead. I called out to Joey and I was really hoping he would be the one answering.
Joey: What the fuck are you guys doing up?
Me: Everything flooded.
Joey: That sucks. We’ll get it taken care of tomorrow.
2:30 AM: The water had drained from the garage and driveway. The Basement still had standing water, but not much. There was a sea of drenched cardboard. Father’s day was not going to be fun. We went upstairs and I went to check the kitty’s water dishes.
Nope. No, I don’t care. The ants can do their thing, I’ll do my thing.
I had taken my chucks off on the basement steps and my waterlogged, wrinkly feet barely had any feeling in them.
I was stomping ants in my bare feet and willing myself to not cry. Randy was already in the bedroom peeling his wet clothes off.
Randy: What are you doing?
Me: Getting water for the kitties.
Randy: It sounds like you’re tap dancing.
Me: I can’t tap dance.
Randy: I’m going to get in the shower.
I didn’t even tell him about the ants. I knew I was at my limit and pretty sure his was all full up, too.
3:00 AM: Randy finished his shower and was in the office on twitter and ranting about something. I have no idea what.
I was in disgusting water for hours. Filthy, nasty garage water. And basement water. Kitty litter water.
I got in the shower and it is possible that was the first time I’ve ever showered in the middle of the night. I mean, it’s possible when I was young and got home from the clubs all hot and sweaty, that I might have showered, but I don’t remember ever doing that.
I’m not really fond of the 3:00 AM shower.
3:30 AM: Randy and I got in bed and turned the TV on. We stared at it for 30 minutes and decided it was time.
4:00 AM: I think we were both asleep by 4:05 AM.
I decided by late afternoon on Sunday that I wouldn’t be going to work on Monday. I texted my boss to let him know.
We have a sort of dry basement and garage. We have many, many contractor bags full of debris. We still have work to do.
Plus side? It would have probably been months before we got around to unpacking the rest of our boxes, and now? We have no choice. Yay! I guess.
Randy and I had to stop working by mid afternoon. His knees were killing him and I felt like I had an ice pick in my back. Doordash is on the way with some Nashville hot chicken. I guess Randy will eat, I’m not sure. He’s snoring as I type this.
We’ll finish up tomorrow.
I’m not going to complain. Two days of physical labor is two days where we aren’t immersed in whatever bullshit political stuff is going on.
And we really did need to get those boxes unpacked.