Things I miss

What with being homeless and all, I've been taking particular notice of the things I miss. We're still in a hotel, coming up on three weeks now. Snowmageddon really mucked things up further with its ten feet of snow. The cleaning company can't get a dumpster up to the house to start throwing stuff out, so we do nothing. They don't want to handle the items twice, which I understand, but if anything could have been saved it is certainly ruined by now. The smell is just soooo nasty and has permeated everything.

I miss my fabulous zebra print trench coat. And my superfunktastic leopard print dansko clogs. That I only got to wear thrice before they became funkified in a not fantastic way. (btw, I did not wear the trench and the clogs together) (but I thought about it)

I really miss my lapdesk. This actually putting the laptop on my, well, lap top, sucks. And gets burny.

But mostly, I miss my Keurig. I'm so zombified in the morning that I just can't face the whole filter, coffee, measure procedure and I usually end up with some swill that's barely palatable. Just when did I get too fancy to hold my own damn computer and measure out coffee grounds?

This whole ordeal may just humble me yet. (don't count on it.)

Well, I've had enough of THIS happy horseshit

And so has Pickles. Although she loves the snow when it's not over her head.

The big lump up there? It is the husband's truck.

And that? up there? That's my new car I was fixin to tell you about before my stupid house burned. (not linking, too sad. scroll down, it's the last post)

This is what it looks like when it's not hiding out in a snow drift.

Not my picture, obviously. Since I have no HOUSE, or CAMERA, or GARAGE for it to live in and not get a billion tons of snow on it. Did you know that with a convertible, you have to go out and sweep the snow off the roof every five seconds or the roof will collapse from the weight? True. Snow sweeping aside, I lovelovelove this car! It's the bright spot in my otherwise dreary existence of looking at rental after rental after rental. I thought having the dogs would be the problem in renting a house. But noooo, it's that no one wants to do a six month lease. My thinking is that six months worth of money is better than no money, but they'd rather let the house sit empty and get nothing. Me no unnerstand.

What I do understand is that I MUST get out of this hotel or I will pull a Jack Nicholson in The Shining. I've got a few more to look at on Monday, providing we're dug out by then. We've got 7' drifts out in the parking lot, but the roads are clear. I guess that's one bright side to not being at home. If I were at home, I'd have no power (it went out at 9pm Friday) and I'd truly be stuck because they won't get to our road until probably Monday night. So see? Bright side to everything!

I'm going to go sob quietly in the bathroom now. Please don't tell anyone where I am.

A River Runs Through It

How high's the water, mama?
Two feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Two feet high and risin'
We can make it to the road in a homemade boat
That's the only thing we got left that'll float
It's already over all the wheat and the oats,
Two feet high and risin'

Johnny Cash
Five Feet High and Risin'

Happy Monday. Can you guess what I awoke to from the title? Yep. A flooded basement. We've had torrential rains since Saturday night. While the rain would ease up a bit to a steady downpour, it's mostly been extremely heavy, can't see through it, raining sideways kind of rain. Because the water came into the house from outside, homeowners insurance will not cover the damages. If a pipe had burst in the house and flooded the basement, it would have been covered. If I had flood insurance it would have been covered. But I don't have flood insurance because? That's right, I live on a MOUNTAIN!! NOT in a flood plain. Grrrrrr



See the debris about one foot up the wall? That's how high the water was. No, I don't know where that curtain rod floated in from.



So, 180 wet vacced gallons later, I'm wondering how to dry out a floor when it's still raining out.

C'mon baby, light my fire

It seems that my life has been shaped by fire. Forged from the flames, you might say. My first house fire was when I was nine months old. Mother could only save herself and me. Everything else was lost. Of course, it was a trailer, (yeah, my house burned down to its axles!) so it wasn't too much, but it was all my parents had. Daddy brought another trailer and set it in the same spot. At 18 years old, with a 17 year old wife and new baby, the fact that he had two acres to set a trailer on is impressive to me.

We lived happily here, our little family. One of my most vivid memories is of coming up the driveway from school, the daffodils in bloom, and Mother in the doorway waiting. This was when you could still walk home from the bus stop alone. This changed in the second grade when I came home from school and found a smoldering heap of ash where home had been. Thankfully, Mother had been at the store with my baby brother when the propane tanks exploded. So once again, all pictures, clothes, toys, mementos were gone.

Daddy built a beautiful home in its place. A huge, rambling, six bedroom home with large rooms and a rec room we could run laps in. Being a builder by trade, he designed and built it himself. Here is where I grew up. Where I had pool parties, learned to love to garden (somebody had to take care of that huge yard) and was happy. Until my junior year.

My best friend was staying the weekend. The parents had gone to bed. When we tidied up the living room before going downstairs, we tossed the pizza boxes into the fireplace. The embers were still hot. When Mother woke us to tell us to get out, the house was filled with smoke, we chose to disregard her warning. We didn't smell any smoke. And we were sleepy. When she came back the second time and she smelled like smoke from carrying things out of the upstairs, we listened. Guess what I saved? Out of everything in my room I could have grabbed? My leather pants. This was 1983, people. We rebuilt and I lived there until I didn't.

Once I moved away from home, I had a series of apartments. I found a house that I absolutely loved! It looked a bit like Bates Manor, looming up on a hillside. I rented the house (rent to own, holla!) and moved my little family in. The Dude was 7, Apples 5 and SweetieDarling was 2. They had their own rooms and a yard. My favorite part? Laundry room, upstairs, where it should be. We lived there not quite a year before the fire. The dryer malfunctioned and ignited the clothes. While not a total loss, it was enough. We were all safe, but it was hard explaining to the children that their toys were gone. I knew I could replace my things, but to them, gone is gone forever.

When I went to college, I lived on campus and the children stayed with Mother. You're thinking, dorms, pretty safe, mostly fireproof, right? Well, right you are, but I still managed to burn my truck up. Just driving down the road and poof! Caught on fire. You'd think someone with my history would have a fire extinguisher. You'd be wrong. Total loss.

After Him and I married and bought our home, we remodeled it. Gutted it and started over, bones out. Every precaution was taken. No expense was spared to make this one safe. Nothing's fireproof, but it's close. I was here seven years before it burned. When the pool was installed, the pump timer was located on the exterior wall of the master bedroom. The timer malfunctioned and caught fire. Only a small one this time. Minimal exterior damage. But still, it found me again. No matter what I do, it seems I can't escape the clutches of the flames. We have a smoke alarm in every room. An extinguisher in every room. Piglet knew the escape routes from the house and the meeting point at 3 years old. I don't know if it will be enough. It's probably appropriate that I've opted for cremation. It seems I'm destined for the flames no matter what.