It was storming outside the other night.

We were just sitting down to a nice dinner with my Catan (my little sister), Jerik (a great friend), and Gabriel. Just as I opened my delicious and much anticipated Festive Special from Swiss Chalet, I just so happened to make an off-hand comment about the rain.

“I hope that it doesn’t flood”

Gabriel looks over and says, “Oh, it’s already started.”

So much for a nice dinner. I leaped forward from my chair and managed to lose my utensils in the shuffle of things. I still haven’t found them; I’m convinced that I threw them against a wall in the scurry and didn’t care where they landed. I opened the outside door and there was water flooding in. Our carpet was soaked, I could see the edges of our couch were wet, and when I opened up the screen door, I pushed a whole bunch of water out of the way.

Yes, it was flooded higher than our screen door. Yes, there is a significant lip to stop this from happening before you go inside the apartment. I ran to the bedroom, donned a pair of shorts, and started making demands.

“Get me a bucket!”

“Grab those towels!”

“Move that carpet!”

“I need a screwdriver!”

I ended up bailing us out in quick time using a dish tub and throwing the water over a railing above us. The screwdriver was used to pry open the drain to make it clear. I do have to say that through everything, Gabriel was a really great teammate in the crisis. He understood that I was annoyed and he could see when it was getting to be too much for me.

He actually told me to stop and worry about myself (Yes, you need to click that link!). He told me to go and wash my face off with water and calm down. It really did help and I was completely comfortable with leaving the situation in his hands. That doesn’t happen too often.

After everything, our couch is still wet and our rug is ruined. It didn’t get so far as to soak my books (thank god). It just kills me that with a little more oomph, we would have been able to save our nice rug.

What really get to me is how my body reacted after this huge bout of panic/exercise/adrenaline. I actually almost passed out. I was weaving back and forth just trying to find a place to sit down; I remember Gabriel telling me to eat and drink juice, but I had a hard time because I felt so sick. My whole body ached with the power of a thousand New-Year-Resolution workouts.

My bed was welcome that evening and I’m still trying to recover from it. I wonder how long it will take.

 

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