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Guuuuuys, I had a horrifically bad day yesterday. Sitting here now with my Chardonnay, I suppose it wasn’t that bad. But up until that second glass (#yepitswednesday), I was on the verge of tears.

Truth? The tears were a-flowin’. At least until Mitch got home.

The story goes like this:

I’m sitting at my computer, excited about what I think is going to be a very productive day. I’m behind on just about everything due to a really fantastic summer, and I can’t wait to hammer out some emails and cross a bunch of tasks off my to-do list. It’s Mitch’s first day with students, so I kind of view it as my first day back at “work,” too. I even have a new planner, notepad and pen to kick off the season! (Cheesy, but I’ve always been a big fan of new stationary and school supplies. Lisa Frank, anyone?)

I should also mention that September 8th is the kickoff of “Kelly 2.0,” which is a total transformation of how I live my life. I’m going to eat healthier, actually exercise, go to bed at a reasonable hour, and get up early to maximize productivity. I’m also going to do a lot of other things for myself: deep condition my overly highlighted hair, read before bed, use my Crest whitening strips on a regular basis, play the guitar, take more photos, write, and stay on top of my nails. (All things that fall by the wayside when life gets busy.)

So, yeah. I have leave-in conditioner in my hair, whites strips on my teeth, guitar by my side, and a new pen in hand. I’m feelin’ really good.

At 12:21, Jess G-Chats (is that a verb?) me that the sky is scarily dark. Shortly thereafter, Mitch texts about an incoming storm. I quickly take Noodle on a walk (girlfriend hates the rain) and sweep the stairs and remove leaves from the drain outside the basement back door. While we haven’t yet experienced flooding in the new house, we certainly want to be proactive and try our best to avoid it.

The storm hits, and I can’t believe how hard it’s coming down. Worried about the basement, I run down there to inspect–and sure enough, water is gushing under the door that leads from the back room to our bedroom as well as some of the walls in the back room. Completely freaking out about our white carpeting and wanting to stop the water, I open the door… and instantly regret my actions. :(

SO MUCH WATER.

The back room is rapidly flooding, and more water flows into the bedroom. I wade through it and manage to get myself to the drain, which has become clogged from debris and mud coming down the stairs from the backyard. I sweep it out, try to bail it out with buckets, and even resort to shoving towels under the doors and in between the baseboards. But my efforts are futile. The drain can’t compete with the water, and it seems like all hope is lost.

Our new home is wrecked, I think to myself. All of that scrimping and saving and dreaming was for naught.

So I cry.

I can’t even call Mitch, because he’s a teacher, and only has access to his phone during lunch.

So who do I call?

Dad.

Poor Dad. I’m sure the guy thought that he’d be free from distress phone calls once his daughter was married, but alas. Not the case.

He calms me down, and tells me to call a plumber and have someone come out immediately. (Love you, Dad.)

“It’ll be fine,” he assures me. “Call the plumber.”

So I do, and in the meantime, the storm subsides, the drain starts working, and the water stops gushing. But it’s made its way about four feet into our bedroom, soaking the white carpeting and turning it a lovely shade of brown. The master bathroom is under a couple of inches of water, and the back room is beyond flooded.

While I wait, I sweep the water out of the back room with a broom into the struggling drain, and soak up as much water in the bathroom as I can with towels. I try not to look at the carpeting.

The plumber arrives and offers several options as to how to remedy the problem so that flooding doesn’t happen in the future. (Which we’re currently discussing.) He also recommends using the carpet cleaner that we conveniently borrowed from my in-laws as a wet/dry vac, too.

Such great advice. Thank god for the carpet cleaner.

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The carpeting has come a LONG way since this afternoon. (I wish I had a before photo!) I worked for several hours on it–repeating a sequence of shampoo, rinse, suction, and towel-dry–and when Mitch got home, we ran out and bought a dehumidifier, a fan, and a bunch of sandbags. We pumped the air conditioner, attacked the bathroom with bleach and pretty much every cleaning solution we could get our hands on, and danced like crazy atop towels to soak up moisture. (The one semi-fun part of the day.) And I dare say that the place looks okay.

Of course, there’s still a chance that we’ll have to rip the carpeting up, as mold is a very scary thing. And we have a lot of decisions to make about what needs to be done to prevent future disasters. And, of course, I need to attack the carpeting with the carpet cleaner again.

But for now, we’re trying to remember that this is all part of homeownership, and that we’re learning. That it could have been a lot worse, and that the damage is fixable. (Heck, we’ve even started talking about putting down some really lovely flooring that’s a bit more flood-resistant and a whole lot less white!) And that in the grand scheme of things, this is minor.

Plus, my hair is really soft right now. (But do we think it might fall out from a solid 12-hour treatment of leave-in conditioner?)

Little Home in the City, we still love you. But please, don’t do that to us again.

(Also, stay tuned this afternoon for a special bonus post! I’m talking all about our new kitchen/dining room table, and the fabulous chairs and decor I recently found for it!)