flood waters

Dan and I have had flooding/water damage five, count them, five times since we moved into this apartment 10 months ago. That means that about every two months our floor looks like this:

like it did this morning.

At 7:44 this morning (per the microwave clock), I was walking to the cupboard to get a bowl of Quaker Oat Squares, and my left foot was surprised to land in a puddle of water. Seeing that it spanned the length of the kitchen and into the dining area, I yelled to my poor sleeping husband “DAN! WATER! ON THE FLOOR! FLOODING!”

Without a single expletive (I’m so proud), Dan sprung into action, grabbing the bin of flood towels we keep on hand and actively searching for the source. We’re pretty much professional flood handlers at this point.

With expertise we sop up water, wring out towels, move stuff away, reuse the towels, turn on the dehumidifier, look for the cause, call our landlord, sequester the source, and sanitize the affected area.

The best part was that our dog Pearl was just thrilled that there was action going on so early in the morning. She was close at my heels as I frantically moved things to higher ground away from the water. That looked something like this:

And when Dan wiped up the shallower spots of water with a towel, she chased the towel and pounced on it. Every time we took the heavy, soaked towels outside (in our pajamas) to wring them out and re-use them, she was right there with us, jumping to try to catch the falling water.

According to the microwave, it was 8:06 when we declared the water officially contained, having soaked up all of the water and removed the leaves that clogged the drain that caused the puddle that seeped into the house …that Jack built…

Flooding has been quite the reoccurring theme of our first year of marriage (alongside burning food on the grill, putting up with nerdy sci-fi shows, and learning that sometimes, girls just cry). We have learned so much from it.

From the flood specific: have lots of spare towels and know where they are, buy plastic bins for things instead of cardboard boxes, and dehumidifiers work wonders for a yucky, humid apartment

To the relational: Dan likes to fix things, so he tracks down the source while I take damage control, and the best thing to do is stay calm and not get upset (that, say, my new tweed high heels got soaking wet); everything will be fine.

So, at 8:08 as I sat down on the couch with a bowl of Quaker Oat Squares, I had one thought in my mind:
Dan and I make a pretty good team in this thing called life.