June 10, 2003

Ah, Homeownership

Ah, Homeownership

Brian and I picked a really good time NOT to be in Chicago.

Today, June 10th, marked an unhappy day for walk-out basement owners in the St. Louis metropolitan area.

I was playing the happy housewife (which is QUITE demanding, I have learned), as I have for the majority of the past two days. Dinner was cooking, and I had some spare time to work in an abdominal workout downstairs. It was about 5:30 p.m., a gentle beginning to a good end of a productive day. Sarah Brightman was telling me that it's "Time to Say Goodbye," and gentle thunder was crackling, highlighting the slyly torrential, but yet seemingly calm, steady rain.

As I finished, I stretched and stood, facing the door, I noticed a dark streak that looked suspiciously like liquid emanating from near said glass door. Upon further, harried inspection, my fears were confirmed. Instant backyard pool in a bad, baaaaaaaaaad, bad place.

Now, this has happened before. This, actually, has happened three times previously. We have taken many steps to ensure that said nasty occurrence does not grace our property again, but, alas, the storm was so sudden and strong enough that even our safeguards of multiple grates were circumvented by the deities of rain.

Get husband. Shriek appropriately. Husband enters the great outdoors and wades into the foot deep (I kid you not) water awaiting its turn to join the swirling masses of the sewer. Husband bales the water and clears the drain. Wife re-enters the home, gathers all towels in the cabinet, and begins indoor water removal. The toilet becomes a critical stopgap in saving the Muscle & Fitness Hers magazine (new this month!) strewn carelessly on the bathroom floor from immediate drowning.

Ten minutes earlier, we could have stopped the whole thing. Ten minutes later, we'd have a bona fide mess. Three days earlier - I shudder to think, as we were out of town.

As far as heart-rate-raising calamities go, not so bad.

The two trees that flank the back of the house - soon to be ancient history. Gentlemen, start your chainsaws. We've learned this lesson one too many times.


Posted by hln at June 10, 2003 09:06 PM | Anecdote