Well, the rain stopped. Finally.
And my basement never got more than an inch of water, unlike poor Amy whose family was jolted awake at 4am yesterday to the sound of the fire alarm and the smell of smoke. The water in her basement crested at about a foot at which time it shorted out the furnace and sent plumes of oil smoke into the house.
You'll be happy to know that her basement is now on its way to dryness and her furnace has defied all odds and healed itself.
My basement is also drying out. David spent a few hours down there today cursing my treasures and peeling up all of the foam flooring which I put down to try to minimize the dust from my disintegrating basement floor.
My basement floor most closely resembles clay mud. It's dirty, it's damp and resists all of my efforts to make it even slightly unhorrible. I need to do laundry but I don't want to go down there. This is America. You shouldn't have to wear wellies to do laundry in America!
Tomorrow I will be spending part of the day washing all of my foam flooring pieces and then drying all of my foam flooring pieces so that once my basement is done being such a jerk I can lay my flooring and wait for the next flood so that I can do it all again.
I might be a little cranky.
The sun was out today and Lily and I counted five crocuses in the yard and that almost made me forgive the basement for being so wretched. Almost, but not really.