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Monday, April 16, 2012

my name isn't Noah

On Thursday, April 5th, I awoke to the sound of water below my bedroom; I said to myself that someone was taking a shower in the bathroom below me. The problem with that thought is NOBODY USES THE BATHROOM BELOW ME. I ran downstairs to find a swimming pool in our basement (ok a swimming pool for small insects and such as the depth was no more than 2 inches) a pipe in the toilet had burst, spewing water like a miniature Niagara Falls.

The final casualties for last week’s flood is in. 60 of our grandson's stuffed animals lost their life as they valiantly kept him safe from water as he slept. (We were told we shouldn't save them as most were soaking wet) Every single one of his books drowned, they didn't know what hit them, and we are waiting to see the condition of the three easy chairs. They stood stoic as the waves lashed against their legs. Their companion tables are so lost as they sit in a corner of our living room. The poor tables miss their easy chair companions.
The pipe that burst was one of those pipes that had a lifetime guarantee against burstability. I took out my dictionary to see if I had the right definition of LIFETIME.
We have yet to hear from FEMA.

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