I was trying to remember this weekend all of the different times this apartment has taken on water. Regularly through the pump drain in the basement floor, but both toilets have overflowed at different times, the air-conditioning unit used to stream water out one corner, the ceiling over the stairs dripped and gushed for a while, and I think there was a time that water seeped through the wall over the kitchen table. Oh, and the time that the kitchen sink just started fountaining out water–we figured out that it was backing up with water from upstairs apartments, so I went up to the second floor to ask the guy above us to hold off on washing dishes until we got it fixed, and he answered the door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and it felt like I’d momentarily walked into someone else’s movie.
Anyway. Tons of rain in New York this weekend, and much of it came streaming out under the door from our boiler room and turning our basement into a big squishy marsh. I spent a while yesterday wringing out towels and then part of today helping wrestle a giant sodden area rug out the door, and my whole upper body hurts.
The night it flooded, we let Declan sleep in our bed, even though his bedroom wasn’t in any particular danger. It’s such an inbetween age–he wants to be so independent all the time, but he also wants to snuggle up when he sleeps. There are these moments where he’s like a baby still, tangling his legs up and nudging his skull up against my ribs.