God Told Noah, There's Going to Be a Floodie, Floodie

Sometimes I truly surprise myself.

I can come epically unhinged from all things sane and rational when I get lost in a neighboring state, but when something like 2,000 gallons of water in my basement happens, I have the calm of a martyr.

I lit a few lanterns and took a seat on the sofa. Checked Facebook for interesting updates, thought about calling Scott for moral support and didn't. I also did not:

Dial 911.
Call my mother.
Alert the media.

Which all flies in the face of my normal autopilot response. I should be in a full on hissy-fit panic. I had just survived an earthquake. (OK maybe "survived' is a strong word...) and now this? Mother Nature is clearly coming for me and she has a bone to pick. She must know I'm not a very reliable recycler.

But instead, I am Googling and downloading apps to my phone.

And all the while Trinket is by my side. As loyal as any dog, she is curled up against me as if to say, "I know you are in a crap-your-pants panic, but I am right here with you." She's purring and rubbing her head against me. She probably really just wants a treat.

I check the basement an hour later. The water is up about an inch. I can tell because it was up to the rim of the wheels of the untouched-by-human-hands exercise bike when I looked before, and now it is up the the spokes. Honestly, I wouldn't mind that thing floating away. Maybe I should open the door and place it out in the street.

I call Scott. The voice of reason and the picture of calm. In a very upbeat voice, he suggests that there might be some merit to bailing some water into the utility sink. The idea is exhausting. I dismiss it immediately.

But by the end of the converstation, I decide to go. It's not like FEMA is coming or the rain is going to stop because that would be convenient for me. This is the first epic storm since Hurricane Floyd sent water flowing down my steps and into my foyer while I sat with no power and 2 infants clinging to my person and Lars stayed conveniently at the office doing God knows what of more importance. This is my home to protect.

I trek to the basement with the lantern and the flashlight. Trinket is at my feet. I put on my Wellies and grab the bucket and make my way into the water. Once there, I see the big rubber beverage bucket, the sight of which, when it is filled with ice and bottled imported beer, usually warms my little heart. Tonight, or shall I say, this morning, it is pure utility. It easily holds 5 gallons of water, and dammit, I will stand there in the dimming illumination of my little flashlight and fill and lift that thing to exhaustion.

Trinket sits on the step just above the water line watching me. I have an audience. Momma's got to bail.