Edition:
July 3, 2009
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Columnist, The Friday Flyer
I sometimes think there’s a little black rain cloud hanging over my house; but before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you this tale of woe from the beginning.
It started out like a typical summer day here in Paradise. There wasn’t a cloud in the bright blue sky. It was hotter than Hell, not a flash flood in sight. The birds were singing sweetly; actually, the crows were busy robbing nests and cawing so loud that I couldn’t think. Neighbors were getting their exercise while walking their boisterous, I mean, well behaved dogs through our yard – some without a leash or pooper scooper for the thoughtful and very appreciated gifts they love to leave for me to step in when I mow the lawns.
Tara’s yappy mutt, Seymour, was all curled up, snoring loudly on his brand new bed looking innocent, like the angel he’s definitely not, after ruining his old, new bed with a wad of bubblegum that he cunningly dug out of my bedroom trash can.
I was finally back to winning my video game, after receiving a very animated lecture from a very annoyed sister about the dangers of dogs and gum and the importance of me keeping my bedroom door shut so that her precious Seymour couldn’t forage for anymore snacks and ruin anymore rugs or furniture. I paused a moment from my game and said a prayer; “God help me” if my sister ever found evidence of the millions of sunflower seed shells that also vanished from the trash can in question.
Golfers were golfing with their usual verbal gusto and not a frantic “Fooorrreee!!!” nor any other colorful, popular golfing adjective word could be heard through my bedroom window. I could smell my dinner cooking though unbeknown to me, it wasn’t a kitchen timer ticking away in the background but a time bomb – a deluge of calamity waiting to dampen the tranquility of my home sweet home. Ironic, since the Miller home has really never been called tranquil, but it made my point.
Yes, it was very much a typical June day in the Miller home and then all hell broke loose! I heard my mom calling for me to come down stairs. In reality, she was screaming at the top of her lungs for me to tear myself away from my &%$# computer game and call 911! By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, a flood of emotions had consumed my normally very-in-control mom (along with a plethora of very colorful vocabulary!)
I had a horrible feeling of déjà vu. I could almost hear horror music in my head! Makeup running down her contorted face and drenched from head to toe, my mom was trying desperately to sweep gallons of rushing water away from the garage and porch to a drain that was clogging up with mud and leaves from the street above. (After this column is printed, I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to rent a room – I’ll even sign a letter of confidentiality.)
I grabbed a broom and joined the futile attempt to divert the raging river that had already flooded the garage and workroom and was now inching its way to the laundry room door with every passing second! My mom, now in full panic mode, was using every towel and blanket in the house as a barricade against the gushing water.
Yes, the unimaginable had happened: a great flood was sweeping through my bit of paradise – yet again! This time the flood wasn’t an act of nature, but an act of stupidity and carelessness! Someone “swerved to avoid a dog” and took off the top of the fire hydrant, causing a 50-ft. or more gusher and the Great Flood of 2009! And it was a hit and run to make matters worse! Not the dog – the hydrant! No one ever even saw a dog!
There was tons of water! It was like a disaster movie and I was stuck in the middle of it with a sopping wet middle-aged woman on the brink of a nervous breakdown! It was definitely time to panic. The last time this happened, I didn’t get a home-cooked meal for more than two weeks!
It was like a flash flood! I know why people call them that because you don’t even have time to think about what to do. In less than a minute, our garage was a swamp! My dad’s golf shoes were actually floating towards the back garage door. Thank God the fire department got here quicker than last time, so the damage was minimal compared to the last time some idiot took off the top of that hydrant about five years ago!
Unfortunately those weren’t the only times some thing like this ever happened. A few years ago, during a freak storm, the rain rushed down Continential and flooded our house, too. It was a tsunami. Another time, my neighbor Austin Reeves and I were in my big pool and were making waves with our belly boards and it popped a seam and we surfed right into our garage. That was a huge mess, too, but it was a lot more fun.
So now the work room and the garage really stink and the laundry room is piled up with wet filthy towels, our dogs are having another nervous breakdown, but the house didn’t flood this time. Mom’s back in the kitchen and all is well.
I had to have a little talk with Tara about the importance of Seymour learning the consequences of attacking emergency personnel. In other words, much to her embarrassment, Seymour is not very sociable with firemen or policemen! Of course, we had to lock him in my bedroom during the flood fiasco where he proceeded to help himself to my Jelly Bellies and I still haven’t found that new pack of gum I had on my dresser!
Tara and my dad, as usual, missed all the, um, fun. I mean they missed the entire emergency, although my dad does have a pretty hilarious recording of my mom calling him to let him know he was needed at home . . . something I’m sure he has already shared with his co-workers! If I had an audio of that particular phone call, I’d be rich – homeless, but rich! Hey, déjà vu!
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