July 14, 2019
Like every Tuesday, I lay awake just before the alarm was to go off at 4:25am. After a couple of yawns, stretches I meander myself to the bathroom and take care of basic needs. Once finished, I got myself dressed and headed out the door towards the elevator, taking me downstairs towards my car. But wait, for whatever reason I went back to my unit, headed for the master bathroom making sure the toilet stopped running and double-checked if both sink faucets were turned off. Now, I’ve never had this obsessive-compulsiveness behavior need to check, double-check, triple-check and even quad-check (is there such a word?) any action, especially the need to check a toilet running or faucet still turned on. But for whatever reason for the past couple weeks this became part of my new normal routine before leaving my home.
After the third time of checking if the toilet stopped running upon its fill, I tightened the faucets of the sink one last time, I finally made it out the door by 4:35am and headed towards the elevator and made it down to my car. Mornings like this, I wish sometimes the car would drive itself to my morning workout at the local YMCA. I drove over to pick up my workout buddy John and exchange morning greetings and share a cup of our laughs from the previous day. We begin heading towards the YMCA and continue exchanging conversation. We sat in the car a few minutes, since we arrived just before the 5:00am opening. The radio played the opening comments of our two favorite ladies hosting the morning show.
Before we knew it the doors were open, we, along others were on our way to our morning routine. As John held the door open, we both agreed to start with a brisk recumbent bike ride, leg strength/endurance training and finish off with a fast-paced walk on the treadmill. Once we finished our workout, we wished our morning crew a good day and headed towards the car. After sharing how good our workout felt and the day after burn we will feel, we were on our way home and to start our respective days. My mind briefly drifted off to the endless list of things to do both at work, home and for my company until John snapped me into reality. We ended our conversation much like how we started earlier, and exchanged another cup of laughs before I dropped John off with my customary, “Smile plenty and make someone laugh.”
I turned left on Federal Highway and headed my short ride home, listening to the radio, a notch louder now that I am alone. Some kind of Disney trivia guessing game was on and the winner would win a decent valued Disney gift card and tickets to a Disney event locally. Again, I wasn’t paying too much attention to the radio as I was consumed in my own endless things to do. Within moments, I was back where I started only less than two hours ago, back in my parking spot of my beloved home. I exited the car as if I had just completed a wrestling match. My lower body and legs were already beginning to feel the burn, with tomorrow still yet to arrive. I headed toward the elevator and went to my floor, got off on the third floor and headed towards my unit.
With the key in my door, I unlocked the locks and headed in, I didn’t bother turning on the lights as I usually head towards the bathroom to shower and get ready for work with a quick kitchen detour. As I entered my door, I hear water sloshing and assumed it was my aquarium water level was running low and the filter bubbling the return water back into the tank. My mornings, I’m like a creature of habit, probably because it’s too early for me to think. I proceeded to step into the kitchen to get a drink of cold water and headed towards my bathroom to shower and get ready for work. Then before I know it, I am off once again, hurrying to the kitchen for a quick breakfast and dash out the door for the race to work.
I walked out of the kitchen and head towards bathroom, down the hall between the bedrooms and my living room and stepped into ankle deep water. Then came the first of many flying flood of fucks! I was not brought up in a household where the use of profanity was even in conversation. An occasional slip of a word either in English or Hungarian was not only uncommon but when it was dropped, I knew something serious was happening. Most often, I heard the word being used mostly in the middle school locker rooms after gym class or by those pre-teens and teens who thought they were the super cool already grown-up adults. I digress, back to my ankle deep water in my living room.
I entered my hallway to the bedroom and the water appeared to get deeper and as I got to my bedroom my entire wall-to-wall medium pile carpeting was saturated (a few more flood of flying fucks) and felt like I was stepping on a large soaked sponge. I walked toward the master bathroom and saw highly pressurized water spraying all over the place. By now a flood of flying fucks flew off my tongue in quick succession but in newly creative ways. In the midst of water spraying, more fucks occurred, I finally found the shut-off valve for the toilet. Soaked in sweat and the spraying of water now to regain some composure. The bright side, thankfully no water streamed into my kitchen, so my cabinets were spared and it was the clean water line to the toilet – it could have been possibly a lot worse!
For those who know me, the use of profane language is very rare with the exception of an “oh shit” moment. But I think I dropped more fucks in the two hours I have been home from my workout than I have in all my 49 years. Definitely, by the end of the day I broke all records. Once I thought I gained composure, I called my Mom around 6:45am and between tears and rage, I explained what happened and then began my hunt to contact a catastrophic water cleanup/restoration company and to contact my homeowner’s insurance to file a claim. Somehow, my Mom showed up in minutes after hanging up the phone. She came to assess the damage and offer motherly comfort while more of the flood of flying fucks flew ever so beneath my breathe, hoping she didn’t hear them.
The next couple of hours I attempted to call my insurance company to only find out the claim office doesn’t open until 8:30am. Between calls, I was able to get hold of a restoration company who made it out to my home in less than an hour. Once they arrived, the destruction of my beloved sanctuary, my home, began to take place. It was not only being destroyed by the ankle deep water throughout almost my entire home but watching the restoration crew begin tearing out the carpet padding but not the carpet and all my engineered wood flooring had me in a rage of tears and anger. After this was done, they began salvaging what they can with wet-vacuum and strategically placed industrial fan driers and dehumidifiers throughout my unit.
Flooring was my first major investment into my home after furniture. I saw my furniture being taken apart, moved from one side of the room to the other to help mitigate any further loss and the invasion of any possible mold growth. Once a sizable amount of my flooring trashed and furniture disassembled, a half dozen more dehumidifiers and more fan dryers were intentionally placed in the most flooded portions of my unit. By the time the restoration team placed throughout my unit, it became a maze made for a human being – me. Do you recall how Algernon the mouse beating Charlie before the operation? It was exactly how I felt and probably shared the same look of defeat. If you’re not familiar with the analogy, I recommend you to go read “Flowers for Algernon” by Daniel Keyes.
With all dozen of the equipment stirring a relentless hum and vibration, I moved in with my Mom and my old puppy. Unfortunately for me, I don’t sleep well in unfamiliar beds, pillows, temperature settings – let’s face it – I don’t like my sleep patterns disrupted, especially unexpectedly. Once I enter Mom’s home, I reminisce years past, living at home and the cherished memories come alive of our small family. I miss hearing Dad’s stories growing up, his laugh, lessons he was always willing to impart on me and his willing to hear my worries. Mom still fills my heart and always willing to fill my stomach with her great cooking. Together we share laughs, stories and our worries. The comforts of home are still here, just my creatures of comfort and routine are out of sync for the time being. Until my home is pieced back together, furnishings reassembled and every detail put back in place, I will feel stressed each time I go back to my condo unit and see it the way it sits now.
Day six marked the first landmark. Almost all the restoration company’s equipment were removed and suddenly quietness took ownership of my home. The restoration company certified the cleanup was a success with nearly 95% of my unit dried out. A handful of my furnishings in my master bedroom will have to be claimed as a loss, mainly the wall-to-wall carpet, the platform bed and a cloth chair as the material they were made of, soaked up the water and caused them to warp. The remaining loss was my engineered wood flooring throughout the house and possibly the baseboards. Some items like the vanities in the bathrooms and couple storage units will not show immediate water damage. By the end of day six, I found out from my neighbor, six units total sustained damage due to my catastrophic event. The damage extended vertically to the first floor and horizontally to units on each side of me. The damage varied from those having water stains on the ceiling, the unit directly below me had water damage and plaster come off the ceiling.
By day seven, My homeowner’s insurance sent out an independent adjuster to assess the cleanup crew by the restoration services and the damages to my unit. They spent close to two hours measuring, inspecting, assessing, taking note and asking questions. I answered the question at hand and nothing more and let them do their job. Shortly, after the adjuster arrived, the restoration services representative arrived to collect the remaining equipment and close out the case as being completed. Wow – my home suddenly became even quieter once everything was disconnected and everyone left.
With my unit’s furniture disassembled and moved about and all my living room contents scattered throughout my kitchen countertops and floors, it’s far from habitable and my sanctuary to return to after a stressful day at work. A thin white dusting was left on all my belongings from the industrial driers propelling up dust and dirt from the now barren floors. It is to my understanding, the adjuster and insurance company have up to 30 days to make a settlement offer. It will take me an additional 30 days to begin restoring my unit to living standards.
The strong feelings of despair together with anger and sadness diminished considerably since the first hours of the first days of my catastrophic event. Once I return to having my basic living standards returned to normal, meaning my floor is replaced, any damages taken care of, furniture reassembled put back in place and everything finally put back to its original place, it is then my home, my sanctuary is restored. It is then I will have peace of mind, knowing everything will be alright and I can go back to my life. It took over a week to calm down and put my words together to write this without the addition of unnecessary flying flood of fucks passing my lips. Consider how fast you read, my ten or so, in this post may be another record for me that I choose not to break anytime soon.
Just as I thought the flood of flying fucks finally finished, it all started again upon having my car vandalized while out shopping for flooring. This became a subplot in my whole catastrophic tale, that if someone were to share this event as their own tale, I am not certain I would believe it at all be possible for one person to be struck with two tragic events in such a short period of time. Though I am rather suspicious of superstitions, there is some truth to bad luck comes in three’s, I await to release another flood of flying fucks to only find out what happens to me next. When the alarm goes off at 4:25am tomorrow morning, it will just be another day filled with a flood of flying fucks as I fight getting through a day without falling apart and try to balance life and come to the realization this is not the adulthood I so desperately wanted to grow up to when I was a child.
After the third time of checking if the toilet stopped running upon its fill, I tightened the faucets of the sink one last time, I finally made it out the door by 4:35am and headed towards the elevator and made it down to my car. Mornings like this, I wish sometimes the car would drive itself to my morning workout at the local YMCA. I drove over to pick up my workout buddy John and exchange morning greetings and share a cup of our laughs from the previous day. We begin heading towards the YMCA and continue exchanging conversation. We sat in the car a few minutes, since we arrived just before the 5:00am opening. The radio played the opening comments of our two favorite ladies hosting the morning show.
Before we knew it the doors were open, we, along others were on our way to our morning routine. As John held the door open, we both agreed to start with a brisk recumbent bike ride, leg strength/endurance training and finish off with a fast-paced walk on the treadmill. Once we finished our workout, we wished our morning crew a good day and headed towards the car. After sharing how good our workout felt and the day after burn we will feel, we were on our way home and to start our respective days. My mind briefly drifted off to the endless list of things to do both at work, home and for my company until John snapped me into reality. We ended our conversation much like how we started earlier, and exchanged another cup of laughs before I dropped John off with my customary, “Smile plenty and make someone laugh.”
I turned left on Federal Highway and headed my short ride home, listening to the radio, a notch louder now that I am alone. Some kind of Disney trivia guessing game was on and the winner would win a decent valued Disney gift card and tickets to a Disney event locally. Again, I wasn’t paying too much attention to the radio as I was consumed in my own endless things to do. Within moments, I was back where I started only less than two hours ago, back in my parking spot of my beloved home. I exited the car as if I had just completed a wrestling match. My lower body and legs were already beginning to feel the burn, with tomorrow still yet to arrive. I headed toward the elevator and went to my floor, got off on the third floor and headed towards my unit.
With the key in my door, I unlocked the locks and headed in, I didn’t bother turning on the lights as I usually head towards the bathroom to shower and get ready for work with a quick kitchen detour. As I entered my door, I hear water sloshing and assumed it was my aquarium water level was running low and the filter bubbling the return water back into the tank. My mornings, I’m like a creature of habit, probably because it’s too early for me to think. I proceeded to step into the kitchen to get a drink of cold water and headed towards my bathroom to shower and get ready for work. Then before I know it, I am off once again, hurrying to the kitchen for a quick breakfast and dash out the door for the race to work.
I walked out of the kitchen and head towards bathroom, down the hall between the bedrooms and my living room and stepped into ankle deep water. Then came the first of many flying flood of fucks! I was not brought up in a household where the use of profanity was even in conversation. An occasional slip of a word either in English or Hungarian was not only uncommon but when it was dropped, I knew something serious was happening. Most often, I heard the word being used mostly in the middle school locker rooms after gym class or by those pre-teens and teens who thought they were the super cool already grown-up adults. I digress, back to my ankle deep water in my living room.
I entered my hallway to the bedroom and the water appeared to get deeper and as I got to my bedroom my entire wall-to-wall medium pile carpeting was saturated (a few more flood of flying fucks) and felt like I was stepping on a large soaked sponge. I walked toward the master bathroom and saw highly pressurized water spraying all over the place. By now a flood of flying fucks flew off my tongue in quick succession but in newly creative ways. In the midst of water spraying, more fucks occurred, I finally found the shut-off valve for the toilet. Soaked in sweat and the spraying of water now to regain some composure. The bright side, thankfully no water streamed into my kitchen, so my cabinets were spared and it was the clean water line to the toilet – it could have been possibly a lot worse!
For those who know me, the use of profane language is very rare with the exception of an “oh shit” moment. But I think I dropped more fucks in the two hours I have been home from my workout than I have in all my 49 years. Definitely, by the end of the day I broke all records. Once I thought I gained composure, I called my Mom around 6:45am and between tears and rage, I explained what happened and then began my hunt to contact a catastrophic water cleanup/restoration company and to contact my homeowner’s insurance to file a claim. Somehow, my Mom showed up in minutes after hanging up the phone. She came to assess the damage and offer motherly comfort while more of the flood of flying fucks flew ever so beneath my breathe, hoping she didn’t hear them.
The next couple of hours I attempted to call my insurance company to only find out the claim office doesn’t open until 8:30am. Between calls, I was able to get hold of a restoration company who made it out to my home in less than an hour. Once they arrived, the destruction of my beloved sanctuary, my home, began to take place. It was not only being destroyed by the ankle deep water throughout almost my entire home but watching the restoration crew begin tearing out the carpet padding but not the carpet and all my engineered wood flooring had me in a rage of tears and anger. After this was done, they began salvaging what they can with wet-vacuum and strategically placed industrial fan driers and dehumidifiers throughout my unit.
Flooring was my first major investment into my home after furniture. I saw my furniture being taken apart, moved from one side of the room to the other to help mitigate any further loss and the invasion of any possible mold growth. Once a sizable amount of my flooring trashed and furniture disassembled, a half dozen more dehumidifiers and more fan dryers were intentionally placed in the most flooded portions of my unit. By the time the restoration team placed throughout my unit, it became a maze made for a human being – me. Do you recall how Algernon the mouse beating Charlie before the operation? It was exactly how I felt and probably shared the same look of defeat. If you’re not familiar with the analogy, I recommend you to go read “Flowers for Algernon” by Daniel Keyes.
With all dozen of the equipment stirring a relentless hum and vibration, I moved in with my Mom and my old puppy. Unfortunately for me, I don’t sleep well in unfamiliar beds, pillows, temperature settings – let’s face it – I don’t like my sleep patterns disrupted, especially unexpectedly. Once I enter Mom’s home, I reminisce years past, living at home and the cherished memories come alive of our small family. I miss hearing Dad’s stories growing up, his laugh, lessons he was always willing to impart on me and his willing to hear my worries. Mom still fills my heart and always willing to fill my stomach with her great cooking. Together we share laughs, stories and our worries. The comforts of home are still here, just my creatures of comfort and routine are out of sync for the time being. Until my home is pieced back together, furnishings reassembled and every detail put back in place, I will feel stressed each time I go back to my condo unit and see it the way it sits now.
Day six marked the first landmark. Almost all the restoration company’s equipment were removed and suddenly quietness took ownership of my home. The restoration company certified the cleanup was a success with nearly 95% of my unit dried out. A handful of my furnishings in my master bedroom will have to be claimed as a loss, mainly the wall-to-wall carpet, the platform bed and a cloth chair as the material they were made of, soaked up the water and caused them to warp. The remaining loss was my engineered wood flooring throughout the house and possibly the baseboards. Some items like the vanities in the bathrooms and couple storage units will not show immediate water damage. By the end of day six, I found out from my neighbor, six units total sustained damage due to my catastrophic event. The damage extended vertically to the first floor and horizontally to units on each side of me. The damage varied from those having water stains on the ceiling, the unit directly below me had water damage and plaster come off the ceiling.
By day seven, My homeowner’s insurance sent out an independent adjuster to assess the cleanup crew by the restoration services and the damages to my unit. They spent close to two hours measuring, inspecting, assessing, taking note and asking questions. I answered the question at hand and nothing more and let them do their job. Shortly, after the adjuster arrived, the restoration services representative arrived to collect the remaining equipment and close out the case as being completed. Wow – my home suddenly became even quieter once everything was disconnected and everyone left.
With my unit’s furniture disassembled and moved about and all my living room contents scattered throughout my kitchen countertops and floors, it’s far from habitable and my sanctuary to return to after a stressful day at work. A thin white dusting was left on all my belongings from the industrial driers propelling up dust and dirt from the now barren floors. It is to my understanding, the adjuster and insurance company have up to 30 days to make a settlement offer. It will take me an additional 30 days to begin restoring my unit to living standards.
The strong feelings of despair together with anger and sadness diminished considerably since the first hours of the first days of my catastrophic event. Once I return to having my basic living standards returned to normal, meaning my floor is replaced, any damages taken care of, furniture reassembled put back in place and everything finally put back to its original place, it is then my home, my sanctuary is restored. It is then I will have peace of mind, knowing everything will be alright and I can go back to my life. It took over a week to calm down and put my words together to write this without the addition of unnecessary flying flood of fucks passing my lips. Consider how fast you read, my ten or so, in this post may be another record for me that I choose not to break anytime soon.
Just as I thought the flood of flying fucks finally finished, it all started again upon having my car vandalized while out shopping for flooring. This became a subplot in my whole catastrophic tale, that if someone were to share this event as their own tale, I am not certain I would believe it at all be possible for one person to be struck with two tragic events in such a short period of time. Though I am rather suspicious of superstitions, there is some truth to bad luck comes in three’s, I await to release another flood of flying fucks to only find out what happens to me next. When the alarm goes off at 4:25am tomorrow morning, it will just be another day filled with a flood of flying fucks as I fight getting through a day without falling apart and try to balance life and come to the realization this is not the adulthood I so desperately wanted to grow up to when I was a child.
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