Even as I write this, I can still hear Debby’s winds whipping through the trees. My face is hot, and it’s not from the coffee. My ac is on the fritz. Thank goodness for fans!
I’m not complaining. Today is a way better beginning than yesterday.
6:30 am, Monday, June 25, 2012.
I had been awake for an hour, tossing and turning in bed. Wind howled outside. My apartment seemed stifling. The rain seemed to finally be passing by. I hoped. I couldn’t take it any longer. No amount of turning up the fan seemed to change the fact that, well, I was ridiculously hot and disgusting.
Something was wrong.
I wandered to the thermostat. I tried moving the ac down. I tried turning it on and off. No luck. I tapped at it, frustrated. Okay, clearly there was something wrong. I stood on a chair and waved my hands by one of the air vents. “Hello, Mr. Vent, are you blowing?!” I thought, wishing I was a foot taller. No matter how much I waved my arms, I didn’t feel even the slightest breeze.
“Um, hi… Daddy?”
Enter breaker box. Time to decipher 50 million buttons. “Which one goes to the AC, which one goes to the AC?!” Pushing a switch from on-to-off-to on again. Nothing blew up. Huzzah. But the AC didn’t start either. EEP!
Rainboots on. Walk through river formerly known as the hallway to my storage unit. To open unit. And find it flooded. 🙁
I forgot to take a picture until after I’d already thrown out a lot of the wet stuff before I thought to take a picture. My golf club bag looked like someone threw it in the pool overnight!
Here’s a shot after I’d mopped a lot up and thrown stuff away, this opened box was underneath two other closed boxes! It’s amazing how deep the water went through. I was shocked to open up this box and still have it wet! (I wish I had thought to take pictures of the top layers and other stuff. My golf bag really was so wet it was hysterical. You had no choice but to laugh at how gross it was, it was just ridiculous. The other layer came off all over my hands when I moved it out. Have you ever seen your hands turn mint from a leather golf bag? EEEEEEW.)
Here is a shot of the pool of water that had been formerly known as my hallway: Just looks like a giant puddle, right?
Another call to Daddy. I am not ashamed.
Insert one of those awkward trying to prove your worth conversations. Why do older men so frequently a) assume they are right and b) not believe we can know anything at all?
Dear Mr. Landlord, you are a very kind landlord and I love living in your building. However, I am a highly intelligent person, even though I am young and a female. I have been cleaning my storage unit for hours, draining the water connected to air conditioner/water heater/etc. and tested my breakers. Why won’t you call the AC company for me?
Building management lady visit. “Yup, the AC company needs to be called,” she said, matter of factly. “I’ll call your landlord.” I learned that I was lucky! People in other parts of the building had their bathrooms, doorways, etc. flooded! Crazy!
Landlord return call. Admits that AC company needs to be called. (Of course, it was his idea at this point. Older men crack me up sometimes! Of COURSE it became his idea…Ha!) Unfortunately…they wouldn’t come out until the following day.
So that gets me back today and the present heat fest:
So from there, I continued to clean. I learned that friends were trapped in their houses, friends can’t *get* to their houses, friends had power out, bridges closed, all sorts of annoying things. Lots of people are worse off then being ac-less and having a few ruined boxes of personal items. Nature can be be crazy powerful!
But the hardest part of all, was just throwing away the ruined stuff. It’s crazy how attached we get to things. They’re just *things.* My Christmas decorations don’t define me. Christmas will still come. The storm will pass.
Back to present:
I guess nature wants me to continue the theme of “letting go.” So today, I detached from the storm. I detached from my stuff that was ruined. And I dried out the storage unit again. I’m just grateful that I’m okay. And I’ve learned a valuable lesson Mother Nature. My stuff doesn’t define me, no matter how much I sometimes feel like I need my clothes, my books, my decorations, my things.
Thanks for the reminder Debby!