The blissful numbing shock has worn off....damnit!
Hans said it would.
Hans works for ServPro. He's a General Contractor - slash - Psychiatric Counselor - slash - Panic Mitigator. He's been through all this before. He knows the ropes.
When we were not feeling too horrified about what had happened at the beginning, he told us we were in shock. He said that would end and we'd have good days and bad days. Really bad days.
"Curled up in the fetal position with a bottle of vodka and a fistful of Xanax bad days?" I asked, naively.
For the first several days after we discovered our flooded house, we were in shock. We were fairly clueless as to how long we'd be gone. As an example, when they told us to get whatever we needed to live on out of the house, I packed up enough of my prescription medicine to cover me for about four weeks. I mean, surely we'd be back in the house within four weeks, right? I packed the half tube of toothpaste instead of getting a full one. Heck, I didn't even bother to pack any extra blades for my razor! How long could it take to dry out a house, three weeks? Four weeks?
Can you hear that?
There it is again, listen!
It's the sound of the Fickle Flood Fairy laughing her fluffy fanny off at our naivete.
As of today, it has been seven weeks since we got home to a flooded house. It's been nine weeks since we slept in our own bed. Sixty-three nights in a hotel room. From the looks of things, we might be halfway there.
Can somebody pass the vodka?