Opened the door, stepped into my apartment and turned on the light. Hmmmm. I will not be having a relaxing evening reading in my pajamas. I have stepped into a large puddle of water. Then I see that this large puddle of water is actually a 2" deep lake throughout my entire apartment. And, as the visual reality starts to set in, I see that this is not a nice lake. This is not a lake anyone should visit. And it certainly should not be inside my apartment.
I step back out as I try to wrap my head around what has happened. The cat, of course, is not amused by this situation, and is going back and forth from my bed to the back of the couch, telling me of her displeasure. AHHHH!! Don't get down kitty! I'll figure out how to get you out of there!
Did you know that quaint 1930's cottages have quaint 1930's plumbing?Apparently, the 1930's plumbing had a problem, and the sewer pipe that leads out to the street decided it would try something new. Instead of taking the water out, it decided to return all of the water from the 3 loads of laundry that had been done by one of my neighbors, up through my toilet and into my unit. And it brought along the other things that were lining the pipe. Delightful.
So, after emergency calls to the landlord and the plumber, I needed to get the cat out. Hmmmm. Guess where the cat carrier is. Under my bed. You know, across on the other side of the room, sitting in the lake. My neighbor provides me with two large trash bags that I turn into hazmat leggings, and I slosh across the lake to get the carrier. Clean the carrier, then slosh back to get the cat. Interesting trying to hold the trash bags around my legs while carrying an unhappy cat. (I don't recommend it.) Cat gets
While waiting for the plumber, and the restoration company to come remove the standing water, I stand there looking at everything that touches the floor. Hmmmm. Just about everything touches the floor. Eeeewwww. And you don't even want to know what the bathroom looks like. My angel friend Karin offers me (and the cat) a place to stay for the night, and we'll figure out the rest the next day.
Next day, after more calls to the landlord and the insurance company, everything is set in motion. I go back to the apartment to save what I can, and get some clothes to wear. Other than most of my clothes and some kitchen items, everything else has been affected. Yuck.
I get a call on Monday saying that on Tuesday I need to get everything out of the apartment so the restoration company can get to work. At 8:00 in the morning, I meet the maintenance guy who has a truck and a trailer, and we proceed to empty my apartment, load up his truck and trailer with basically everything I own, and I watch it drive away to the dump. Not a particularly good day.
I feel myself about to attend the most spectacular pity party I've probably ever thrown, and decide instead to go get something to eat and sit on my beach. A magical thing always happens at my beach. After about an hour, I can feel myself starting to shift. I see a Mom with a little girl who is probably 3 years old over by the tide pools. The little girl is delighted, and you can see her joy as she discovers all the different things. And she's even giggling when the very cold waves drift in over her feet. I could feel myself feeling her joy and lightening up.
Walked back to my apartment, loaded my car with the few things I had saved, and went back to Karin's, where I ended up staying for almost 2 weeks.
This has been a fascinating process. As you know, I had already downsized quite a bit, and thought I was living pretty lean. Nope. I was still carrying around my past and things I didn't really need. Things I had because they were useful, or practical, or I was just used to having them. Or I kept them because someone had given them to me, and that really was the only reason I still had them. Things I was very attached to for a variety of reasons.
When pretty much everything goes away all at once, it's a little shocking. And I won't lie, that was a really hard day. But as you sit with it, and really see the things for what they really are, your perspective changes. It's all just stuff. And the good news is, with my insurance money, I get to get new stuff. Only the stuff that I really want, the stuff I truly enjoy, the stuff I want to move forward with in my new life.
Right now I'm still kind of camping in my apartment. I'm taking my time selecting what I want. I'm not just simply replacing what I had - I'm creating a living space that I love, and I'm going to joyfully take my time doing it.
The lessons? Too many to count.
The practical lessons - know your emergency numbers to call on a Saturday evening when normal office hours are done (I did not). Keep your insurance up to date (I did - and thank God for renters insurance). Keep receipts for your significant items (I had some). Keep your files in a container that will survive sitting in a lake (I did).
The life lessons - you find out, once again, how many angels are in your life and that they show up when you need them. That things always work out for the best. During this I said my tough times mantra: "out of this situation only good will come" and just kept saying it. And, you know what? It's true. I was given the gift of starting over and creating my home in a new, wonderful way.
Here is my blank canvas on the day I started to move back in. I'm excited to see what I will create!
Light, Love & Laughter
So sorry you had to "go through" all "THAT"! Ugh. Love your perspective and will be excited to see how your "paint" your new "canvas".
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