Life is what you make of it.
When the clouds became dark and the rain began to fall endlessly this week, my memories from a month ago began to haunt me. With the quickly melting snow and then over three inches of rain, the worst case scenario happened.
Though the carpet in our basement must have been a throwback from the '60's, almost every inch of that dark, shag stuff was drenched. A closet filled with my youngest daughter's high school memorabilia was entirely soaked as well as the grandchildren's toy room. It was disheartening having to tramp through the squishy carpet to haul out toys and bedding.
The carpet has been torn out and in one corner of the family room is a pile of furniture, boxes and even a mattress. The floor underneath the former eyesore is tile, and I mean old tile. It breaks with every step taken. I cringe every time I walk downstairs to feed the cat. It saddens me to see my house in such disarray.
I have grand-daughters that just love to play in the basement. The one year old begs to go down the steps, just so she can race right back up. The three year old is so devastated by the whole ordeal that whenever she comes over she has to show someone the "broken basement". While giving the kids a tour the two year old asked, "Grandma, your basement is broken? You need a hammer." I giggled so hard and have decided to find her a rubber hammer so that when the time comes she will be able to help. Don't worry, they all will help!!
So the saga continues with the infinite numbers of rain drops that have fallen this week. I have streams of water that could keep up with the Raccoon River. My sump pump has to be close to retirement, as is my dehumidifier. I have started the fans once again and am hoping that soon the rain subsides and the sun will shine for more than a day at a time so that I can organize my basement and perhaps get some carpet on order.
You see there is bright side to this whole ordeal. The '60's carpet will be replaced with a more modern pattern and we will have the chance to once again race the grandkids up and down the steps.
* Trudy Schroder is a Pilot-Tribune alum and contributes guest columns.