My aging parents’ basement flooded and somehow I was the lifeline called when Mom and Dad stepped knee-deep into floating cat litter.
Seems Eduardo may not have put in the best drainage system under their new patio, so torrential rain let A River Run Through It despite 40 years – FORTY EFFing YEARS – of dry basement.
The big thaw brought white caps and gurgling sounds coming from multiple crevices where walls meet floor.
Which my dad can’t hear because he can’t find the hearing aid batteries. Which I’m sure he conveniently lost to mute my mother running around in her hot-pink crocs trying desperately to save floating tax returns from 1987.
Two wet vacs, three kids, two adults, a pink-croc wearing Chicken Little, and a Deaf Dad. Trying to save boxes upon bags upon teetering piles of valuable merchandise stuff.
Crazy valuable. If you follow Pickers. Or Antique Road Show.
But we’re approaching Hoarders. And fast.
My parents are academics. Intellectuals. History and antique buffs. Which means everything has a story, and those stories hold the power to replace 401k’s. Which they can, with time, but not soaking wet.
Time has run out.
Because even if Bobble Head Bill Clinton is valuable, he’s worth nothing found belly up floating in a river of despair.
And I’m running out of favors to offer my rather attractive husband who wet-vacked ALL NIGHT LONG to save what he thinks might someday might land us a beach house, but I know will only get us a mold allergy.
My grandmother saved yard sticks and tartar sauce packets. My mom promised never to do that.
Sell the stuff, because it’s worth nothing wet.
And really, we don’t want the Hess trucks and yards of authentic Turkish wool and political paraphernalia and the Porsche hard top.
Even if, yes, even if, it is extraordinary rare and has a great story.
Let your parents know they’ve got the best Son-In-law EVER, cause if it were me, I’d hand my MIL some scuba gear and sit back for the show.
Hmmm… living 3 states away has its benefits… flashbacks of the washer overflow circa 1978-ish
he is the bestest, isn’t he? He dealt with them cuz he knew it’d kill me. I can handle his parents, he can handle mine.
DO THE MATH vbjenn:
1978 + 33 years of STUFF = U OWE US BIGTIME.
Sounds like my parents! God bless you for being there to help them out.
The question is…will this Great Flood experience change anything for them? My parents have an attic full of things that don’t have great stories. It all has sentimental value: the ceramic light-up Christmas tree that was handmade by Aunt So-and-So, my old plastic Barbie Dream House that is so brittle it’s dangerous after being stored in a HOT attic for 30+ years, Dad’s old army footlocker that’s heavy and beat up but belonged to Dad–when he was in the Army. These things are almost considered holy relics because they were touched by someone they know. Not that I’m wishing for a great attic catastrophe, but still…
@ uncommonhousewife: lesson so not learned. And believe me, much more junk than value. But they see value in the junk; what they need is a dumpster, but not in the short-term plans. ugh.
@michelle!! No blessng here; as w deluge predicted 4 tomorrow; I’ve already passed the buck and taken phone on silence. going to your site http://msaunderson.blogspot.com/ — need complete update and sign of spring!