Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I'm making my husband come home...
We live in an old house. Built in 1880 in the middle of nowhere. I believe the house down the street is famous for refusing George Washington refuge one night. The cellar here is stone. The floor is amazingly concrete and not dirt. It gets wet down there. The water runs down the walls. If it was red it would look like a Nightmare on Elm Street movie. It's been raining cats and dogs around here. The local rivers are supposed to be up 14 or so feet above normal. Our floor usually gets wet, but nothing to splash in. Moments ago I opened the door and turned on the light. Ack. I start down the steps. Ack! I have to go back upstairs to put on my boots. And of course, I grab my camera. The lighting isn't that good down there, but I can see that the water is starting to come up the sides of the clothes dryer. ACK!!! I call my aunt and uncle. They have water all the time. My uncle tells me I need to get a pump and get the water out now. A C K !!!! I tell him that the husband will be home this afternoon. It's too much time. There's no time! I call the husband, apologize for what I'm about to say, and tell him to get home now...and bring an ark. Yes, that's a pencil floating by. Are you kidding? What's a pencil doing on the basement floor?! Well, all the stuff I never noticed on the floor floated by... it was gross. I guess we really need to get an automatic pump installed. Yay, Spring.
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