Paging Noah

I know I've updated a bunch of people already, but for continuities sake (even though I haven't blogged in months), I'm recording this episode here.

Monday, January 24th 2011 @ 2pm
I was all set to go out and run my errands.  I had my bank stuff all set to go, my bag packed, my keys and cell phone were on the table. I walked halfway to the closet to get my coat.  I stopped short and thought, "Since I am going out, I should return my library books.  I wonder if the next in the series has been returned yet.  If it has, I'll go in and get it, otherwise I'll use the drop box in the parking lot."

I sat down at the computer and pulled up the library's online catalog.  As I was sitting there, I heard a strange noise above me.  I figured maybe the girl upstairs was doing something.  Then I heard a strange noise from the kitchen.  I got up to investigate.  There was a tapping sound coming from the cabinet above the stove.  I opened the cabinet.  It was still dry, but the tapping was DEFINITELY coming from up there.  I began to unload the cabinet.

Then, on the other side of the kitchen, the cabinets let loose like Niagara Falls (I've never been there, but I've seen pictures).  I grabbed my phone and called the super.  I put whatever I could under the falls in a lame attempt to "catch" the water before it made a mess: A vase, an old ceramic bamboo planter (sans bamboo), tupperwear...  I climbed the step-stool and attempted to save my food!  "Attempted" being the operative word.  Attempt: Unsuccessful!  Total Failure.

As I was emptying that cabinet, the kitchen light began leaking.  It was streaming down.  I threw a 5 gallon bucket under it and went back to attempting to save my food.  I unplugged the microwave (I can't lift it to move it).  I moved the coffeepot.  The toaster is...well, toast.  The counter, despite my tupperwear, et. al. was a pond.  The floor was wet.  I threw a towel over the electric stove because that cabinet was leaking into the stove top.

The dining room ceiling let loose next.  I took the garbage bag out of the kitchen pail and threw the pail under to light fixture.  My table was soaked.  All of my mail, tax forms, bills, cards, notes, agenda... I tried to dry off what I could.  I ran to the bathroom to get another towel.  My jaw hit the floor.

My bathroom was raining, too!  There was a half inch of water on the floor, it was streaming down the walls, and falling just like someone turned the shower on full blast from the middle of the room.  It's a drop ceiling.  Every edge was streaming!  I threw an empty tote bin un the center of the room to try to contain some of it, but it was a lost cause.  It was pouring so badly that stuff UNDER the sink in the vanity cabinet was saturated.

I called the super again and reiterated that this was not a little leak, and I need help, NOW.  I couldn't keep up with it.  After an hour, I gave up and sat outside.  Two men came to turn the water off.  They went upstairs.  Thirty minutes after, a man came to my apartment to look at the situation.  He told me the owner was upstairs and would be here soon.  I pointed out all the leaks, all the wet carpet areas, including the bedroom.  Later, I found out Dayna's bed, my curtains, and some other things in the bedroom were wet and damaged.

At 5pm, I sat on the couch and stared at the wall in shock.  The super came by and said the guy would come to fix the pipe around 7 or 8pm.  Until then, I had no water, aside from what was leaking out of the ceiling anyway.  I knew I lost most of my food.  I had no idea whether Dayna's bed would be salvagable.  And I knew it was going to be a massive cleanup that I didn't think I could handle alone.  My back screams at me for routine cleaning.  This?  No way.  Not right now.

A friend called.  I burst into tears on the phone.  After we hung up, I stared at the wall in the living room some more.  It was the ONE room that didn't flood.  I called my mother.  She asked how I was.  I burst into tears before I was done saying, "Not good."  I asked if I could spend the night at her trailer.  I packed an overnight bag and began the hour drive north.  I missed the bank, but I had over 1/4 tank of gas and enough for tolls (ok, and a #1 at Roy's, a girl's gotta eat).

Tuesday, January 25th 2011
I called Dad.  I stopped by his place.  He put gas in the car for me so I could get back and forth.  He also gave me $20 so I had money in my pocket.  The past couple of years, he has the ability to remain calm no matter what the situation seems like.  His response to the flood was, "We never know why God does things.  Obviously, you weren't supposed to be there this week.  Don't worry about it."  MUCH easier said than done.  I was a nervous wreck!

I drove down to Bayville.  I parked in *my* spot.  I shoveled the thing, numerous times, and put down copious amounts of Ice Melt.  It is mine until the snowy weather stops.  I get VERY upset when I come home and someone else is parked in it because I have difficulty walking some good days.  On a 2 inch sheet of ice topped by another few inches of hardened snow, it's near impossible to not fall or hurt myself.  I turned the engine off.  I looked at the building.  I took a deep breath.  I managed to get out of the car and walk in.

My door was open.  Not just unlocked, but OPEN.  I walked in.  All of the lights were on.  My furniture and belongings were piled in the livingroom to the point I had to climb over stuff to get in.  I wasn't happy.  I called out.  No answer.  The dining room carpet was half pulled up.  There was an industrial fan UNDER the carpet to dry out the padding, and another one on the opposite side of the room aimed along the top of the carpet.  My dining chairs were ON the table.  Yuck.

The kitchen looked like an abandoned ghost town.  The cabinets were open and barren, just as I'd left them.  The whole place smelled of musty mold.  I braved more.  I walked to the "hall," the little section where the bedroom door and bathroom door are.  I looked in the bathroom first.  Still wet.  Junk in the tub.  Mops left willy-nilly.  debris on the toilet seat, tank top askew.

I went to the bedroom.  The carpet was torn up exposing a nasty, wet, hardwood floor.  All of my furniture was moved.  My bed was on the opposite side of the room with stuff piled on it (in my sheets, really? ugh!).  The dressers were back to back, or front to front, so I could barely get in to get any clothes.  Dayna's bed was disassembled and the mattress was standing up in front of an industrial fan.  The closets were blocked with furniture, there was no way I was getting anything out of there.  I was happy I had worn my hiking boots yesterday.

I grabbed what I could manage of clothes, I grabbed a box of Cheerios and a few other food items I thought might be safe.  I couldn't find my laundry basket.  I called the landlord.  He said they would put new carpet in tomorrow, they would repair the sheetrock on the bedroom ceiling, and hopefully I'll be back in soon.  i asked about the bedroom closets, were they putting new carpet in there?  He said they were fine.  i said no they weren't, they were soaked too.  He assured me that he'd check.  He said, "After that, anything left we can do around you."  I was not as optimistic.  I sat in the car and called mom and asked if I could come back.  I cried.  Again.