As we were driving home from our vacation to
Virginia in April, we received a call from our house-sitters when we were about
four hours out. Our basement was flooded. The snow melt was soaking into the
ground all around our house and water was coming up through the basement floor
at an alarming rate.
We beat feet to get home, not that there was any
more we could do when we got there. The sump pump which had faithfully
eradicated incoming water over the past twenty years just couldn’t keep up.
It was a constant battle for several weeks. And
just about the time it seemed as if the war was won, a storm in mid-May took
out power, as well as a tree.
From three am one morning, Hubby and I bailed
water out of the basement, before finally giving in sometime after six when we
needed to start getting ready for work.
At least with all that water and a gas stove to
heat it, I took a refreshing bath before heading to work.
Other events in the spring brought these
inconveniences into perspective. My sister’s husband, Claude, was diagnosed
with brain cancer. He had surgery to debulk the tumor, but there wasn’t much
more they could do to slow the growth. (Claude's birthday in 2014.)
Around that same time, Hubby’s mother finally
went to the doctor because she could no longer walk on one of her legs. Not to
say “told you so”, but I called it, knowing that she had to have broken her
hip. Surgery went surprisingly well, but it put a lot of stress on the family,
stress which hasn’t abated. (Dino, of course, helps everyone deal better with stress.)
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