So…remember the Great Flood of October ’12 that made an appearance on Twitter? No? In the manner of Twitter, it was a short lived event of a few words and token photo. It was that time where our bedroom ceiling started leaking water through the light fixture and we were relocated to the Magpie’s bedroom for a few nights while the industrial dehumidifier worked its magic on the ceiling. And where the roof was patched but we needed to wait until it stopped raining before the contractors would finish fixing the roof and complete the repairs to the bedroom [ie we’re still waiting].
Yeah. That’s sooooo nothing to bitch about anymore.
The Magpie and Mr.Q happened to stay home today. The Magpie wasn’t feeling well yesterday and so had a day of rest today to get rid of her headache and temperamental stomach. And, while the day at home was not necessarily convenient for Mr.Q, it turned out to be the lesser evil as the two of them sat in the living room and watched water drip down the wall underneath the television cabinet.
And then, of course, they did what any spouse and six year old would do in a panic situation: they phoned me at work and asked me to call the strata company to get contractors…
Don’t worry, I made the contractors call the spouse and six year old back at the house.
Turns out that our neighbours [lovely, lovely folk – honestly], had a bit of an overflow issue that wasn’t stopped for a good ten minutes. In that time, their place was soaked…and the water started looking for ways through the walls and into our place.
Several hours later, we have four fans and a dehumidifier set up on three of the four floors in the townhouse as the master closet, living room, computer room and landing to the basement have all been declared water zones. Most of my clothes are out of my closet and the bed has been taken over by laundry and shoes. The television is set up with the Wii in the kitchen – not connected to any cable – and the recently tidied computer room is a disaster zone after the closet full of notebooks, photos and memorabilia has been piled high in the middle of the floor again. Baseboards have been removed from the downstairs landing and there is a path of plastic laid out through the entire house that traces the path between water-soaked hot spots.
And, still. I can’t quite bring myself to get too worked up about. Don’t get me wrong. I toured the house when I got home, cursed each new fan that I found and then had a glass of wine. But it’s not like there’s anything else I can do about it tonight. The water issues have been found and dealt with. The neighbour’s house seems to be in far worse shape than our place. We have another bed to sleep in that’s not in the same room as any fan. The cat has recovered from the invasion of contractors and emerged from the corners of the basement.
Truly, we’re all fine. There appears to be no major damage and cleanup is well in hand. The only thing I’m still concerned about is the [solid fir…sob!] tv cabinet. But, for a few nights of indoor camping and stepping over extra cords, it’s hard to complain [much].
Unless, of course, like our ceiling from the Great Flood of October ’12, the repairs drag on into that ever just-out-reach mythical Dry Spring. Then all no-bitching bets are off.