When Water Doesn’t Go Down The Drain
Nearly a month ago, after a serious rainstorm when just over 8” fell within 24 hours, many houses in my community had water come up their basement drains and, for some, their basement toilets, too. Some had a few inches of mostly stormwater that came up but quickly receded. For others, they received feet of sewage.

While we were fortunate that we had some stormwater, it remained for nearly half a week. Once that our plumber did some critical work, only then did the water start to drain. We feel that the heavy volume of stormwater was a primary contributor to the malfunctioning drain, Up until that rainstorm incident, in our 11 years in the house, there wasn’t a single incident of ANY water EVER coming up the basement drain. We were very worried because most of our neighbors’ water already receded or had been pumped.

Harder To Breathe
Very quickly, we could tell that there was something wrong with the air inside our house. We couldn’t go inside without coughing. Between that first morning after to when the plumber started work, whenever we went into our house, my wife and I made sure to wear N95 masks.

To make it worse, we couldn’t run our AC (air conditioning). First, the basement furnace was partially submerged, so there wasn’t a way to safely test it. Also, the air ducts needed to be cleaned. As a result of these and other factors, it was impossibly hot and humid inside our house. I’m guessing that it was well over 80° in our house and the humidity was well over 80% (if not higher). There came a point between the air and the humidity that we decided to temporarily leave our house, while it was getting fixed.

Hard To Find Better Days
It’s situationally ironic that, prior to the storm event, I watched a lot of YouTube videos about nomad living: living and working in a voluntary, location independent manner. The key word is voluntary. In our case, there was nothing voluntary. It hurt to leave the home that we love very much. I can’t think that many people would ever think that any of this would ever happen to them. In the beginning, we were limited by what couldn’t happen (yet), which challenged our collective patience. It both helped and unsettled us to go online and read about others’ situations. There were still many that weren’t yet past the worst (ex. uncovering asbestos tile [sometimes, below soaking basement carpet], being “ghosted” by restoration companies, being unable to contact a restoration company or other company, etc.).

If you’re familiar with my other posts (if not, feel free to check some out), then you have read how I work to cultivate a sense of gratitude. Yes, I have some minor complaints during an average day, but, in the truest sense, they aren’t actually “a big deal.” When I finish most days, giving thanks for what I am blessed with and using it to make the world better has made my life happier, more satisfying and more enjoyable. However, when water comes up in your basement, lingers for days, when it’s unknown why the water won’t recede and, from day to day, constantly adapting to figure out what is next, it is very difficult to feel “happy.” There were plenty of moments, when finding happiness amidst some shitty moments seemed impossible.

The Homecoming
The day that we returned was a blur. I remember it consisting of mostly of gathering up our stuff and picking up our dog. I don’t remember much outward celebration. However, I do recall feeling more comfort and more ease.

Changed Forever
While we have been back for a few weeks, there are some things that we still need to address and new issues that have appeared. We were able to salvage most of our shelves from the basement. Anytime that it rains a lot and the street floods, we will still check our basement drain (and probably will for a long time). While we never kept much in the basement, now we will keep even less down there. This experience has forever impacted us.

Home Is Where…
So, when I now lay my head down on my pillow on my bed in my house, I have much for which to be thankful. I think of a George Carlin bit where he said,

”Your house is a place, where you keep your stuff…”

I don’t disagree with him. However, when we were gone, I really didn’t miss my stuff. I brought the important things that I needed, during that brief period. What I did miss most was being able to do what I wanted, when I wanted within the confines of the four walls that I call my home. Most importantly, I wanted to lay my head down on my bed…in my home.

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