A River Runs Through It

Who knows, maybe one day I will actually get to the point where I can post things as they happen instead of waiting until things have calmed down a bit. Maybe, when I can do that, I can actually capture the feelings of the moment instead of the wondrous 20/20 hindsight that my journal seems to usually be filled with.

 

That Nor’easter, and the accompanying days of rain, along with a high water table, have all conspired to wreak random bits of havoc here in New England. And now, as the title of this post suggests, I am the owner of an impromptu indoor swimming pool. Since my home was not built to sustain such a thing, I have decided to remove it from the premises. And, since it is not the most practical thing to lift a few hundred (maybe thousand) gallons of water and place it a few miles away from my home, in hopes that it won’t be able to find its way back, I have had to resort to other methods of removal. Hopefully, my methods will be deemed at least as humane as the failed one that I have already described.

 

At first, I thought, well, if I only had a really big straw, I could suck it all up. After all, I am a bit parched at the moment. And, I am always trying to get myself to drink more water. Once I realized that such a feat was ever so slightly beyond me, I trudged off to Sprawl-Mart because a fellow water-treading homeowner said that they had wet/dry vacuums on sale.

 

Once I entered WallyWorld, I found all of one lonely little 1-gallon ShopVac sitting on a very long empty shelf. At that moment, I thought I could hear all of the Pioneer Valley slurping up their accidental bathing facilities. After I recovered from the day dream, I tried to convince Locutus (Low-Q-tus) of AllMart that I should only pay half price for this machine because after all, I only needed the “wet” part of the wet/dry vacuum. Needless to say, that line of logic didn’t even skim Locutus’ head as it sailed on by and I headed home with my Black-n-Decker Slurp-O-matic.

 

The next hour was filled with:

 

slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail…

 

Then, I was accompanied by a woman of incredible cuteness (that would be you Sandi) to a wonderful dinner at The Fresh Pasta Company, in Northampton. Feeling a bit out of sorts, I ordered a slightly not me dinner: Cajun Shrip over Artichoke Ravioli. It was wonderfully tasty. And the sauce was so voluminous, that I had to ask the waiter to bring over more bread so I could soak it all up. As I watched the spicy creaminess be absorbed into the fresh bread, I began to corollate that moment with my activities earlier in the evening.

 

I resisted the temptation to ask the waiter for a straw.

 

The next day I did more of the:

 

slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… slurp… bail… thing.

 

Later that evening, a neighbor offered to lend me a handy-dandy mondo-mini submersible water pump. He said that he had thought the people who owned this place before me had a pump. I said, well, I have the hole for a sump pump, but there’s nothing in it. He shook his head in consternation (of the last owners I suppose). And, I spent the night baby-sitting the handy-dandy pump.

 

You see, a submersible pump does not have an automatic on/off switch like a sump pump does. So, leaving it on if the water were to run out would be bad, very bad! So, I let it run for a while. I turned it off. I napped. I woke up and turned it on again. I turned it off. I napped. And so on until about 6am this morning.

 

At which time, I drove over to the Home Despot. I walked in and found a bunch of very helpful people all trying to locate all the pieces that I would need to once again have a basement where my private underground swamp now resided.

 

An hour later, I was home sliding Tab B into slot Q in a mildly successful attempt at assembling my very own Acme Little Giant basement-powered watergun and TARDIS sound emulator. It’s down there chugging away right now. And, I am up here, typing to you.

 

Time for a nap, then a shower (so I can go into work without looking a fright and smelling of mildew).

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