Chapter 4: Hans Was Right

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?


Chapter 3: "Mrs. Briggs, I Think It's For You"

In the last episode, our tragic heroine (that would be me) was watching all of her personal belongings being shoved into bags and boxes at a high rate of speed.

Well, in a flash of rare insight, I decided that there were a few very personal belongings that I didn't want strangers to view or handle, if you know what I mean!

Anywho, so I surreptitiously crept through the soggy house to my soggy bedroom and opened the drawer to my soggy bedside dresser and carefully removed all of the above-mentioned personal items into a small paper bag, which I then duct-taped shut. I then waited until one of the packers was looking the other way and I, very sneakily, stashed the bag in the bottom of one of the packing boxes.

I was so proud of myself for saving myself from the shame and embarrassment of having my, um, personal items from public view!

A few hours later, the aforementioned hulking young gentlemen were hauling boxes into the garage. One of them carried a (very obviously vibrating) box to me and said, "Mrs. Briggs, I think your cell phone must have fallen into this box, and I think you have a call." The sweet dear offered to unpack the box and retrieve my "phone" for me.

Right about then my loving husband almost swallowed his tongue.


Chapter 2: We Don't Know Anything About Flooding, But We Stayed In A Holiday Inn Last Night

Our insurance company (the fabulous USAA, to be featured in a future blog entry), recommended we hire a cleanup service. The one they recommended and we chose was part of a major national chain, their motto is "like it never even happened," their name rhymes with "PervSwo." My hesitancy to name them specifically comes from the fact that the jury is still out on what kind of a job they're doing...

Anyway, they immediately began emptying our home of every single item within it. They had movers and packers come in and box up everything and several hulking strong young men came to tote and carry and heave everything from within the house to the garage within the first few days.

Two of these young gentlemen had arrived at 9 in the morning and were preparing to enter the house through the garage. I looked at them and politely said, "Guys, would you mind taking off your shoes, I just mopped the floor?" One of the poor souls started to take his shoes off sheepishly before he realized he had been had.

No one ever said that when I lost my mind I lost my sense of humor with it!