In the words of Seth Meyers: Really?!?

188.

What a night. My daughter and I got home from church last night a little before 8:00. It was raining. Hard. The Boy got home a few minutes later. He sat down to do homework while The Girl took a bath. Misty did schoolwork. I started watching Glee.

As we all went about our business, the rain continued. In fact, it worsened.

The Boy continued his homework. The Girl finished her bath. Misty finished her schoolwork. I continued watching Glee. The rain came down harder and harder.

Around 8:30 I went to the kitchen to get some cereal. I eat a bowl of cereal every night around 8:30. A man’s got to get his fiber, you know.

As I poured myself a bowl of Raisin Nut Bran I noticed wet footprints in the kitchen floor. Dog prints. I thought, and actually said, “Looks like one of the dogs has been outside.” Moments later we realized how wrong I was.

Our den is about 2 feet lower than the rest of our house. Off of that room, down another 6 inches or so, is what we call “the dogs’ room.” That room used to be a porch. One of the previous owners closed in the porch to make a sunroom of sorts. We use it for the dogs. Their bed is in there. Their food is in there. The utility sink where they bathe is in there. It is very much the dogs’ room.

Misty walked into the den and said, “The dogs haven’t been outside.” I could tell from the tone of her voice that this was no idle remark. As I crossed the kitchen she confirmed my fears. “We’ve got a leak some where.”

I descended the three steps from the kitchen to the den. The first thing I noticed was the discoloration of our rug. The outer edges were noticeable darker. Then I noticed light reflecting off the puddles forming on the tile floor.

Luckily, the water wasn’t very deep. We scrambled to get things out of the floor. Baskets filled with toys, computer tower, my guitar, the 100 year-old crib carved by Misty’s great-grandfather: all were in danger. As I moved around the room picking various items up from the floor I glanced out of the back door.

I stopped; stunned by what I saw. The Dogs’ Room was filled with water. The floor was literally filled with dirty water. I watched as the dogs’ bed and food and water bowls floated like powerless boats on a choppy lake. The water lapped at the top of the 6-inch step into the den.

I stepped from the den into the unwanted indoor pool. The water came halfway up my shin. As I stepped into the water I looked across the room and remembered the electric heater we keep there for the colder months. It is plugged into an outlet about 3 inches off the floor. Half of the heater and the entire receptacle were submerged in electricity conducting water. And my feet stood in that same water.

The water apparently had yet to penetrate into the internal components of the receptacle. I assure you the absence of electrocution was in no way due to a lack in stupidity. I mindlessly tried my best.

I walked over and plucked the heater from the intruding liquid. I placed it atop the utility sink. Out of harms way. As I did the heater’s cord came unplugged from the receptacle. Granting easier access to the water. Again, despite my best efforts, no electrocution.

As I turned to survey the room I saw water continuing to rush into the room through a crack in one of the corners. The storm door was also complicit in granting the floods entrance into our home. I noticed the pile of items for the upcoming yard sale partially submerged, soaking in the fetid rain-mud-dog hair soup.

I sighed. My shoulders dropped in defeat. I re-entered the den and closed the back door to keep the animals out of the mess.

I helped Misty move a few more things. We answered about 275 questions from the kids. I took a brief moment to call our insurance agent, and then I returned to the kitchen and my uneaten cereal. Fortunately I had not had a chance to add the milk before our house went all biblical.

My feet were wet. I was hungry. I’d missed the last 25 minutes of Glee. And a fourth of my house was under water. It was a rainy night that not even Eddie Rabbitt could love.

Twenty minutes later the water was gone. The muddy floor, damp musty air, and the scattered debris were the only evidence of the flood. I emptied the water from the dogs’ food bowls and filled them with kibble. I emptied and refilled their water bowl. I turned off the light and went to bed.

Today I learned that our homeowner’s insurance will not cover any of the damages. We still don’t know what exactly the damages are, but we know they are not covered. That phone call served as the exclamation point on the giant middle finger that Mother Nature poured upon us.

It also serves as the perfect ending to a perfectly soggy story.