I’m taking a break. I am trying not to think about how hopeless this is.
There’s a drain in the basement. Rather than absorbing run-off, it appears to be the source of the flooding. The water table is so high, the water just keeps coming in.
A neighbor and I spent 3 hours pumping and bailing. Then my ex arrived and we worked another 2 hours with the shop vac and various pump set-ups. Eventually we gave up and are now just trying to put things up on shelves or remove entirely anything we can drag out of there. It already stinks to high heaven, and–oh yeah–isn’t covered under my homeowner’s insurance.
Here’s what it looked like after we brought the water level down a few inches. Notice that the sump pump must be immersed in order to work, so it’s a rousing game of Fill The Receptacles and pour, pour, pour to keep things going.
Hey, at least my ex is being really helpful. Possibly because I keep crying.
Oh, man, that truly bites. Sorry!
Oh I can smell it from here, we had water in the basement once. So sorry for you.
Oh, I am so sorry! I’ve never had to deal with basement flooding, but I’d be crying too! At least you know you can just let the tears drip, and drip, and drip… you’ll save money on Kleenex.
Is it too much to hope for that the lack of carpet depicted in that one locale extends throughout the sunken bath, er, uh, basement? My sympathies, dear Mir. Kudos to your ex, too, for pitching in.
Would that I lived closer to you, as I can pump and bail with the best of them…wait. That didn’t sound right.
Poor, poor baby. I’d treat myself to a temper tantrum and a pitcher of Mojitos, pronto. No reason to drown sober!
Praying for clear, sunny skies your way!
My first thought was that your sewer line had been blocked; we did that 3 years ago. Then I remembered the flooding y’all were having.
One day you may look back on this and laugh. Maybe. ‘Til then, here’s a bucket.
Blame me — it is all my fault. I have this thing about causing raining in basements (I present exhibit A — bought house 16 days before opening basement door to RAIN — full on RAIN in my basement; exhibit B: moved across country and somehow caused the wetest rainy season on record, including water running through my garage from the crawl space on New Year’s Day). I’m sure this is not because you failed to knock on wood or didn’t go to church yesterday. This is simply because you know me — the unluckiest girl in the world when it comes to water in basements.
FWIW, I’m sorry; but no, you may not send me a bill — my insurance won’t cover it either.
Oh bummer. I’ll send you a big hunk of wood for you to knock on, or knock yourself out with. Whichever will make it better.
I’ve had a flooded basement before also, the pits! I hope all of this passes very soon. So sad :(
Geez, that sucks. I’m so sorry.
Dang, girl. I’d come help if I could. Chin up. Soon there will be vodka.
As you told ME recently, I hope you are drinking a martini. Right NOW.
And if I lived closer, I would either bail, or bring drinks. Or both!
Oh damn Mir. That happened to us…way too much rainfall in a one hour period, and the water pumping station was hit by lightning. All that water came rushing back at us, and we ended up with a foot of nasty water in our finished basement. Our sump pump couldn’t keep up. I cried like a baby. Our damages totalled more than 15K.
If FEMA comes in, like they did for us, you can get a grant to pay for cleaning costs and structural repairs, but not personal items. They’ll advise you to install back-flow valves, to prevent that from happening again, if the source of the water wasn’t coming solely from the tiles around the foundation of your house.
Sweetie, I know how you feel, so if you need to talk, you let me know. *HUGS*
Oh no! I’m so sorry, Mir. I hope you get this figured out without sacrificing your sanity and the kid’s college funds.
Glad ex wasn’t a jerk. Hurrah for that.
Oh, dammit, Mir. I irritated with the universe on your behalf. You deserve a break.
I’m proud of Chickadee for at least making and effort to help out by making lunch. Her skills will improve with age, never fear. G started out learning how to make scrambled eggs at about 8 and has been the family chef ever since.
I’ll be thinking dryness thoughts for you.
Oh no!!!! ((((Mir))))) I’m so sorry :(
That’s awful! Makes me thankful that I have NO basement here in California.
I was laughing about the ants. Sorry for mocking your pain. But really, it was a bit funny. Because it was your kids and not mine, of course.