Outside in
This is a story of that time when our house turned on us. I mean, turned.
It started small, but terrifying. On Wednesday this happened:
I hate bats, y'all. They have always been creepy with their huge wings and beady little eyes and shudder-inducing random flight patterns. Vomitous. A few years ago this girl at work got bit by one and it temporarily paralyzed her neck muscles and she had to be in the hospital for like a week.
Creepy is no longer adequate and if I ever see a bat these days it's a tuck and run sort of situation.
The good news is that by the time we got home late Wednesday evening, he was gone. Which is nice, otherwise I would have had to live in the car til the boys could construct some kind of secure tunnel from the driveway to the front door.
And even though he hasn't come back, you can bet every time I've crossed the porch since, it's been with head pulled into my shoulders like a turtle, and fast as my two-foot legs can carry me.
And then Saturday rolled around. We all slept in til like 9:30. I made three different breakfasts because that's how we roll, and it was close to 11 before we ate. Brandon was going to work on recertification classes while the boys and I went to Giga's for a board game party.
It was supposed to be one of those lazy, cloudy, slow days. The ones you look so forward to all week long. And it was, for most of it.
Monopoly had begun. We all had a few properties, except Aden who refuses to buy much of anything but mainly plays to get the chance cards and make fun of whoever lands in jail.
My phone rang. It was Brandon. Apparently while he was playing Playstation, er, studying, a snake slithered out from behind the TV. He took a cue from me from back in the day, and tried with all his might to slice it in half with a scraper, which didn't work because carpet is a snake's best friend.
I pause here to bring up the fact that our critter prenup from fifteen years ago included that Brandon would handle all insects and animals except snakes. They are his worst nightmare. Again I refer to what happened back in the day. End pause.
So bless his heart, it's not like I could do anything from where I was, I think he was just totally freaked out and needed a reassuring voice. I kept my cool and he eventually figured that if he kept the injured snake pinned long enough it would eventually die.
About an hour passed, and my phone buzzed again. Here is the play by play:
So yes, we had four snakes and two lizards in the house.
The lizards don't bother me. Like not even a little.
Four snakes, y'all.
[Dry heaves]
We left Giga's, though not one single part of me wanted to go home, and grabbed some sticky traps from Kroger. The sky was looking quite ominous in both directions of us. We ran through the parking lot and as we got within steps of the car, the sky opened up.
I'm talking lightning popping on all sides, leaves and limbs blowing across the road, sheets of rain coming in sideways. One of those where I had to shout at the boys, "Stop talking so I can see!"
It lasted most of the way home, then as we got within a half mile, nothing. The roads weren't even wet. This tends to happen. We have a micro-climate at our house.
After initially being relieved upon pulling in the driveway that my house wasn't a pile of ashes, we ventured in, the Jaws theme playing in my head. Slowly and gently crept down the stairs, where the boys and their bee bee guns went reptile hunting. Brandon and I just stared at each other with wide eyes.
Because what else can you do?
After some conversation it was revealed that Trey had left the basement door open for some time earlier in the week. We're pretty certain that's how they got in. We're also pretty certain that Trey will never use that door again after the talking-to he got.
Set out twelve sticky traps all over, decided that any time spent in the basement in the near future would involve every single light being on, and moved on to other things.
Lightning and thunder began outside. The wind picked up. And the rain came, pounding hard on the windows. A whistle came from downstairs, followed by, "Bring a bucket!"
Rain was pouring in the basement windows like one of those waterfall shower heads. While Brandon held the buckets, which caught about half the rain, I lined the windowsill with all of our old towels.
Walking by the door to outside, I saw more water. Lots more water. This door is below grade, under the deck, and though it has a drain, the drain often gets covered by leaves. Which apparently had happened because we were about an eighth of an inch from the flood coming in.
I took Brandon's post with the buckets while he put on a raincoat and grabbed every long-handled tool he could find. Not wanting to be standing in water with the volume of lightning going on outside, he did everything he possibly could from the basement doorway to clear the top of the drain.
By now there was a good amount of water in the buckets I was holding. So I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Boys! Get down here NOW!!" They pounded down the stairs, rounded the corner, and their jaws dropped open. "Put down whatever device you have in your hands and get over here!" Each one of them took a bucket while I went over to try and help Brandon.
"Why is all this happening?" That was Trey.
"The house is falling apart!" That was me.
"You mean we're not going to have our house anymore?" That was Aden, blue eyes stretched wide and a quiver in his chin.
Parenting fail.
I apologized and found a way to speak comforting words as Brandon finally broke through to the drain and the water quickly ebbed away from the door. As it let up, the boys put down the buckets to find about three inches of water in them. The already-wet towels from the windowsill were used to mop up the tile at the door to outside, and the dehumidifier was pointed towards the steps to upstairs, where a puddle had come in from below.
It was 8:30 and we all just collapsed in adrenaline-induced exhaustion.
Two days later, the sticky traps have been untouched. The dehumidifier continues to hum. Downstairs is a complete mess, a testament to its Saturday evening chaos.
On my ever-growing list of things to be thankful for, we can add buckets, sticky traps, and the fact that we don't keep grenades in the house.
It started small, but terrifying. On Wednesday this happened:
I hate bats, y'all. They have always been creepy with their huge wings and beady little eyes and shudder-inducing random flight patterns. Vomitous. A few years ago this girl at work got bit by one and it temporarily paralyzed her neck muscles and she had to be in the hospital for like a week.
Creepy is no longer adequate and if I ever see a bat these days it's a tuck and run sort of situation.
The good news is that by the time we got home late Wednesday evening, he was gone. Which is nice, otherwise I would have had to live in the car til the boys could construct some kind of secure tunnel from the driveway to the front door.
And even though he hasn't come back, you can bet every time I've crossed the porch since, it's been with head pulled into my shoulders like a turtle, and fast as my two-foot legs can carry me.
And then Saturday rolled around. We all slept in til like 9:30. I made three different breakfasts because that's how we roll, and it was close to 11 before we ate. Brandon was going to work on recertification classes while the boys and I went to Giga's for a board game party.
It was supposed to be one of those lazy, cloudy, slow days. The ones you look so forward to all week long. And it was, for most of it.
Monopoly had begun. We all had a few properties, except Aden who refuses to buy much of anything but mainly plays to get the chance cards and make fun of whoever lands in jail.
My phone rang. It was Brandon. Apparently while he was playing Playstation, er, studying, a snake slithered out from behind the TV. He took a cue from me from back in the day, and tried with all his might to slice it in half with a scraper, which didn't work because carpet is a snake's best friend.
I pause here to bring up the fact that our critter prenup from fifteen years ago included that Brandon would handle all insects and animals except snakes. They are his worst nightmare. Again I refer to what happened back in the day. End pause.
So bless his heart, it's not like I could do anything from where I was, I think he was just totally freaked out and needed a reassuring voice. I kept my cool and he eventually figured that if he kept the injured snake pinned long enough it would eventually die.
About an hour passed, and my phone buzzed again. Here is the play by play:
So yes, we had four snakes and two lizards in the house.
The lizards don't bother me. Like not even a little.
Four snakes, y'all.
[Dry heaves]
We left Giga's, though not one single part of me wanted to go home, and grabbed some sticky traps from Kroger. The sky was looking quite ominous in both directions of us. We ran through the parking lot and as we got within steps of the car, the sky opened up.
I'm talking lightning popping on all sides, leaves and limbs blowing across the road, sheets of rain coming in sideways. One of those where I had to shout at the boys, "Stop talking so I can see!"
It lasted most of the way home, then as we got within a half mile, nothing. The roads weren't even wet. This tends to happen. We have a micro-climate at our house.
After initially being relieved upon pulling in the driveway that my house wasn't a pile of ashes, we ventured in, the Jaws theme playing in my head. Slowly and gently crept down the stairs, where the boys and their bee bee guns went reptile hunting. Brandon and I just stared at each other with wide eyes.
Because what else can you do?
After some conversation it was revealed that Trey had left the basement door open for some time earlier in the week. We're pretty certain that's how they got in. We're also pretty certain that Trey will never use that door again after the talking-to he got.
Set out twelve sticky traps all over, decided that any time spent in the basement in the near future would involve every single light being on, and moved on to other things.
Lightning and thunder began outside. The wind picked up. And the rain came, pounding hard on the windows. A whistle came from downstairs, followed by, "Bring a bucket!"
Rain was pouring in the basement windows like one of those waterfall shower heads. While Brandon held the buckets, which caught about half the rain, I lined the windowsill with all of our old towels.
Walking by the door to outside, I saw more water. Lots more water. This door is below grade, under the deck, and though it has a drain, the drain often gets covered by leaves. Which apparently had happened because we were about an eighth of an inch from the flood coming in.
I took Brandon's post with the buckets while he put on a raincoat and grabbed every long-handled tool he could find. Not wanting to be standing in water with the volume of lightning going on outside, he did everything he possibly could from the basement doorway to clear the top of the drain.
By now there was a good amount of water in the buckets I was holding. So I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Boys! Get down here NOW!!" They pounded down the stairs, rounded the corner, and their jaws dropped open. "Put down whatever device you have in your hands and get over here!" Each one of them took a bucket while I went over to try and help Brandon.
"Why is all this happening?" That was Trey.
"The house is falling apart!" That was me.
"You mean we're not going to have our house anymore?" That was Aden, blue eyes stretched wide and a quiver in his chin.
Parenting fail.
I apologized and found a way to speak comforting words as Brandon finally broke through to the drain and the water quickly ebbed away from the door. As it let up, the boys put down the buckets to find about three inches of water in them. The already-wet towels from the windowsill were used to mop up the tile at the door to outside, and the dehumidifier was pointed towards the steps to upstairs, where a puddle had come in from below.
It was 8:30 and we all just collapsed in adrenaline-induced exhaustion.
Two days later, the sticky traps have been untouched. The dehumidifier continues to hum. Downstairs is a complete mess, a testament to its Saturday evening chaos.
On my ever-growing list of things to be thankful for, we can add buckets, sticky traps, and the fact that we don't keep grenades in the house.
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