Surviving My House

I have no clue why Heartbreak Hotel has stuck in my thoughts through week one.  The words have nothing in common with my experiences, I am not so lonely, although I do want to die over this mess in my house.  Through the end of week one with some help from friends we had all the baseboards off and were ready to remove wet drywall and insulation.  The gravity of this mess has really started to take hold as all I can think about is what I will replace the floors with, hardwood or engineered flooring.  It is by the grace of higher powers that my air conditioning works, as the units were seriously under water.  I am still counting the total loss of designer shoes and skirts (currently at 5 pairs of shoes and 9 skirts).

I have loaded all the pictures of my hard work demolishing the house, but lets not look at doom and gloom tonight.  Every day has brought me something small to smile about with my friends and my buddy Brutus.  On this Sunday, Brutus has taken a break from keeping the house free of mice and other pests that come in from the demolition to take a swim with the neighbor dog. 

I love you Brutus

We can always time time for a little swim

Have you ever had one of those days when you feel like your life is in the toilet?

Below are the early am pictures of the flooding to my house taken at about 5am on April 28th.

What a way to wake up. . . .

This would be when I said something like buck or ruck or stuck or . . . .

Wow my floor has never looked so clean - mom would be proud

Despite the fact those dog dishes are under water can you believe the dogs still wanted breakfast?

I love the sound of thunderstorms and the rain pouring down on the roof at night . . . . at least that is what I used to think.  You see I live in one of these “perfect” communities where people drive golf carts, teenage girls and young women are seen running in the park with their dogs while men line up to play football, and every home looks so well groomed you feel like you are living in some fairy tale.  I was very careful about where I chose to live and was pleased that I got everything I wanted, at a price I could afford, and it was not in one of Houston’s dreaded “flood plains”.  In 38 years my neighborhood had never flooded, not through Alisha, Rita, Alison, nor Ike (which I was in the house for).  In fact life was pretty good until April 28th when in the early morning hours we received 16 inches of rain in less than 5 hours.

At 5 am on April 28th, I was roused from my sleep by the sound of car alarms and loud popping.  Ignoring the popping noises, I swore vengence on the teenage kids in the neighborhood for jacking with the cars (I must have been delirious at this point because no teenager I have ever met would be out of bed willingly at 5am) and started out of bed.  It was only then I looked into the master bath and saw water lapping up on the wall with the night light.  Some words that rhyme with buck magically escaped my mouth and I was up unplugging anything and everything electric in the house.  In was in this brief this moment I was also thanking myself for my own rule of “no junk on the floor”.

By the time I turned on all the lights and grabbed my camera, the water was 4 to 6 inches deep depending where you were standing in the house.  And by the way, can no one shut off that stupid car alarm? Opps, oh wait that’s my car – crap.

The water was gone by 7 am, and by 4pm that day so was my carpet.  My Saturn Sky – totaled.  My beloved corvette – totaled.  The only good laugh of the day was, as usual, Brutus who was absolutely excited that mom had turned the whole house into an indoor swimming pool for him.

 Well, Houston, its time to rebuild.