…and boy does it stink.
Our basement flooded last weekend for the second time in two weeks. The first time I took pictures.
The second time looked a lot like the first, so I didn’t bother.
The first rainstorm gusted through the state like a freight train in the treetops. When it was over, debris covered every square inch of ground. Power was out, roads were impassible, and odd and ends began washing up in strange places.
Some of the ends were odder than others.
I love the juxtaposition.
Meanwhile, water was pouring into basements. That tends to happen when nine inches of rain falls very quickly onto frozen, snow-covered ground.
A flooded basement is a grim sight. Especially when you don’t use a flash.
Notice the floating faux-body armor (it’s the white thing that looks a little like an elongated home plate). I feel like this has some significance, but I have yet to figure out what it is. Other than that my husband throws his military gear on the floor when he’s packing for drill and doesn’t pick it up. But that’s a whole other post.
After the first storm, the pump ran for almost three days before we could begin to clean up. It ran for seven days this time around. I finally shut it off this morning, but water is still seeping in.
It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, by the way.
Here’s an action shot from Storm 1.
The second deluge, which poured about seven inches on us in two days, created the same lake effect in the backyard, except by then all of the snow was gone. That, by the way, is almost unheard of in these parts in early March. We’ve been known to hold onto our snow banks until late May. Everyone whines and moans about it, but deep down it’s really a point of pride.
Deep, deep down.
And just to add confusion to chaos, Owen, who has up until this point made his reluctance to set foot on smooth surfaces very clear, decided that this would be the perfect time to conquer his fears. For the first time in the three months that he’s lived in this house, he stepped out of his comfort zone and onto the open-backed, wooden stairs…
…and into the basement. The snow-cold water didn’t really seem to bother him. In fact, I had to ask him several times to stop drinking the floor.