They Came In By Twosies, Twosies

Truly, it was all I needed to hear.

Learning that Scott was about to fly in in his tights and super hero cape to save the day both motivated me and moved me to tears.

I hadn't realized how nervous I'd become during the hours of bailing in the darkness until I felt the rush of relief at reading those three little words.

"On my way."

Nearly as sweet as:

I love you.
It's a boy/girl!
Congratulations, you're hired.
Welcome home, sweetheart.
You're the winner!
You're finally divorced.

I can relax now. Somehow between Scott's unique genius and my willingness to indulge his creative solutions, we'll right the ship. I know we will.

And knowing this, I feel a surge of motivation. If Scott could brave the storm, and fallen trees, cresting waterways, downed electrical wires, and roads littered with debris to come 90 miles to help me, surely I could find a way to lift a few more buckets of water.

Trinket and I take to the basement once more. This time, she sits on a higher step (smart girl) and I wade more deeply in my Wellies. I can not believe how much water could silently, imperceptibly make its way into my home.

Some time later, I have no idea how long, maybe 200 bucketfuls, I hear my back door open and a bunch of equipment land on the floor. The door again, and more stuff. I look to the light at the top of the stairs in time to see Scott's legs, clad only in shorts, and his shoeless feet come down the stairs as he makes his way without breaking stride right into the drink. He kisses me warmly and then quickly gets to his work.

Gas can. Generator. Heavy duty cords. Extra outlets. Extra sump pump. Hose. In a matter of minutes we are humming with electricity and water is flowing down the street, having traveled the length of the hose with the force of an open fire hydrant. We are in business.

As the sun rises and my children begin to figure out the events that occurred while they were in the Land of Nod, I am feeling remarkably better. I have help, and it is Scott. I have far less water and no sense of panic about things to come. Hil and Pat have a sense of adventure, and even though Pat wishes he had some juice for his Playstation, Hil is in her polka dot Wellies and is bailing along side me. And the neighborhood has come alive with the same sense of camaraderie Scott and I enjoyed that night at Doyles.

One neighbor has knocked on doors to see that everyone is OK and keeping the trailer level. He's also gotten his coffee pot fired up with his generator and is walking around the block filling mugs on the go. I am handing out cookies to folks who come to check on me, and introducing them to Scott. Neighbors with generators are offering hook ups to neighbors without, and extension cords are criss-crossing the street so sump pumps can be brought to life. It is wartime camaraderie.

I can actually begin to think about something more than 2 minutes into the future.

The kids and I are supposed to take a trip to DC, but I am not sure that is such a hot idea, given the events of the last few hours. I have no idea if the hotel has been damaged by the storm and no idea what conditions are like 2 hours away. I hate to disappoint the kids and not go, but what if the electricity is out for days like the harbingers of doom on the news told everyone? I could be pumping and bailing until school starts. I need to make a decision.

What to do, what to do? It's for sure I have to do something.

I decide on a deadline. I pick a time. If the electricity and water problems are not resolved enough to even conceive of leaving by 3 o'clock, I'll make a call to the reservations line. Whether we'll postpone or cancel will be determined by conditions at that moment, and not a moment before.

I tell the kids the details very matter of factly and ask that they see it for what it is. A possible disappointment, but maybe not a total loss. The more they help, the better our chances.

Pat, not a fan of hard labor, decides to take flight to help Lars at his house. I know it's a ruse. Lars has power. And XBox.

Hil gamely rejoins us in the basement clean up and is proud to be included in the fun that Scott has made it.

With a plan in hand, I can immerse myself in the clean up. No pun intended.