Water, Water Everywhere
Glenn, MI
July 27, 2020
Because we enjoy watching the water from a house in Michigan doesn’t mean we like seeing it flood our house in Georgia. But, for whatever reason, the last couple times I’ve come here, leaks have sprung there.
In June, it came from our guest bath, destroyed the ceiling below, and flooded the foyer floor. On that occasion, we were fortunate a neighbor walked into the unfolding mess, and helped with triage till a plumber could come tourniquet the wound.
This morning, Rita and Alexander were home when water gushed from the toilet supply line like, as my wife put it, “an open fire hydrant”. The bathroom floor had become a small pond, feeding a stream that had once been our hallway.
Below the bathroom is the unfinished portion of our basement, which had also begun to develop an undertow. Portions of our new carpet were soaked. By the time Rita phoned me, she was on the case.
She had shut the valve, begun sopping up water, and called the men who would assess damage and dry the basement. They were already on the scene when I picked up the phone.
My mind raced, and began the process of crisis management, and prioritization.
“How”, I asked, “is the wine room?”
“Some water got in, but it’s not as bad as the storage room. Anything in there is soaked from the water dripping from above or rising on the floor.”
For the third time in as many years, we have large air blowers and de-humidifiers fanning the basement and pulling moisture from carpets and walls. Rita said they’ve pulled up only some of the carpet, and will reassess the rest in a couple days. Thanks to her timely efforts, we should be able to salvage all of it.
Water is rising here too. We awoke yesterday to find the lake encroaching further onto the beach, but leaving a sliver sufficient for us to sit. With the rising water came high waves, which gave David more opportunity to body surf.
The skies remained clear and temperatures warm, but the waves were a harbinger. The winds had also picked up, and snapped the makeshift umbrella that had shaded us the last couple days. Devoid of cover and exposed directly to the sun, we shortened our time on the sand.
Last night, sitting atop the bluff after dinner, we saw ominous clouds suddenly form on the horizon. We grabbed the seat cushions, dropped the umbrella, and headed inside.
More water was on the way.
JD
